The Dream of the Year
by Dreaming-Of-A-Nightmare
Summary: Senior year is his last chance to set things right and be someone else. And he's really going to try this year, because of a dream he had, and because of a friendship he gained, and because of what he wants deep down. .:. Kurtofsky. AU after s2 finale.
1. Part 1

"Kiss me," he keeps saying, over and over again, in a breathy, soft tone. "Kiss me, please, just kiss me… You did it before, didn't you? _Kiss me."_

The demand is needy, daring, destitute. He can feel the shorter boy shaking against him, long, pale fingers curled into his striped polo, and his breath coming in cut puffs of moist, heated air against the jock's collarbones.

"Kiss me, David. Do it. _Kiss. Me."_

And he is so close, _too_ close, the tips of their noses touching at an angle, the carbon dioxide from their lungs intermingling smoothly like stirred brownie batter, and the gleek's smelling just as sweet.

Dave can feel the boy trembling, but fear or nerves or desperation or need or love or lust, he isn't sure. All he knows is that Kurt is leaning forward on the toes of his shoes, mouth perfectly placed right in front of Dave's. Dave's eyelids flutter, only staying open half of the way, and he is incredibly, _sorely_ tempted to give in, to remove his hands tense and frozen from his sides and encircle them around the smaller boy and just kiss him senseless.

However, it would be futile. Because this can't be real. It must be a dream. How is it plausible, feasible, _possible _for Kurt to be acting this way?

It can't. Because it _isn't._

Dave takes a deep breath and slowly grips Kurt by his shoulders, lowering him down to stand on flat feet, but the pavement seems to have given way to grass, and the ground is uneven.

Yes, definitely a dream. But one that Dave doesn't wish to wake from just yet, because he has to settle something. He has to clear the air with Kurt, his only true friend at the moment, even if this is a crafted version of the boy born from Dave's subconscious.

"Kurt," he says, quiet and calm, but he can't help the racing of his heart. "Don't do this. You don't want this. And I don't, either. I made a mistake, and maybe you're making one, too, by being here for me when I don't deserve it, not from you, even if you forgave me. This is just… not right. I know who I am, now, thanks to you, but… But you have so much more to shoot for than I do, so just… just go for it, okay?"

Dream-Kurt frowns, and looks heartbroken. "You mean Blaine? And New York?"

Dave smiles to the best of his ability. He feels dizzy, and foggy. "Yeah. Don't worry about me, and just worry about yourself. You're always a freaking martyr, Kurt; you always forget about yourself and try to help others. I think the only time you actually paid attention to yourself was when I pushed you too far and you left for that prissy school. But that doesn't matter now, okay? What matters is you going after what you really want. I'll be fine, now that I've come to terms with stuff. So you don't have to do this, all right?"

"…But what if I want to, David?" dream-Kurt responds distantly, and his form starts to blur under Dave's fingers, melting away into greyness. His words come in fragments: "What if… I want… kiss you… 'cause I… came to… lo- y-"

0o0o0

And then, all at once, David Karofsky is left blinking into the morning sunshine, his alarm going off.

He rolls over and slams it, silencing the obnoxious thing.

Today is the first day of his senior year.

And he spent a decent chunk of his summer hanging out with Kurt, talking about things in private, and making decisions.

His father knows about him being gay. And Dave is just so glad that his parents are divorced and he doesn't have to deal with coming out to his mom, and he's beyond glad – to the point where he is utterly _relieved_ – that Paul Karofsky is a patient, calm, understanding man.

Burt Hummel knows, too, and was pissed and offended and defensively protective of his son at first, but he found out as soon as Kurt started to explain things, and it all came tumbling down, but it wound up being for the greater good. And by default, the Hudsons know as well, but Finn won't say a word because he's actually a decent guy (unlike Dave), and things are safe over there.

_(Dave feels safe over there.)_

And Kurt is genuinely Dave's friend, and he wishes he could tell him all that he told the dream-Kurt. But who is he kidding? It wouldn't go over nearly that well, and it's not like Kurt is _into _him or anything.

And that's the awful part, really. Because, all this time, Dave's realized his sexuality because of being around other guys in sports, sure, but mainly because…

Well, because of one Kurt Hummel.

And it sucks, because he wishes it weren't true. He knows that he couldn't even stand to be with anyone, let alone Hummel, in a real relationship right now because he's just _that screwed up, _but he can't stop who he likes. Those feelings aren't like turning off the tap in the sink. Like a broken dam, once the water comes through, there's no stopping it.

And thoughts of Kurt Hummel have plagued David for a few years to date.

_Damn. _

Still, this is a new year, isn't it? Dave thinks vaguely as he goes about his routine of getting ready for school, once he's had set since freshman year. It's a new year to… make things right. And to find time to say the stuff he keeps shoving down to the bottom of his gut like one might shove down the garbage to make room for more in the bag.

Sighing, Dave heads downstairs for the breakfast-and-goodbyes portion of his routine. His father is at the table, reading an alert on his iPhone. He _shlucks_ it away, and turns to his son. "Good morning, David."

"Morning, Dad," Dave murmurs, reaching for a bowl and getting out a spoon. He fetches some Frosted Flakes from the cabinet and spins on his socked heels to slide over to the 'fridge to fish out the gallon of two-percent milk.

"Looking forward to this year? It's your senior year. Your last of all twelve years of grade school. You'll be off to Michigan or Ohio State next year, right?"

"That's the plan; whichever accepts me first," Dave remarks a tad bitterly. He wants to go to Michigan more than he can even begin to express in words, only relate to in feeling. It's like an aching need one might feel when they are burning hot outside in the dead heat of summer and want nothing more than the cool, wet sensation of an ice cube on their tongue and ice-cold, tangy-sweet lemonade pouring down their throat. – Basically, Dave Karofsky is not sticking around to be a Lima Loser, and he needs Michigan to accomplish that goal.

"Well, I hope you get those letters soon, David. I'm very proud of you for keeping up your grades for the second half of last year, and for taking more honors classes besides Calculus this year. Keep it up, son."

And this is Paul's way of saying, _'Everything is still normal even thouh you're gay because you're still my son, you're still a bright kid, and I still love you.'_ And honestly, Dave will take whatever he can get.

"Thanks, Dad," Dave mumbles around a mouthful of cereal. "Have a good day at work."

"And you one at school! I'll be home late, so make whatever you want for dinner. And please, David… call your mother soon?" Paul adds as he heads out the door.

To himself, alone in the house, Dave finishes eating, but not before he replies to no one but the dust motes in the air: "Yeah, sure, I'll get right on that. And I'll even say it with a freaking smile, 'Oh hey, Ma, long time no talk! Just called to say that I'm gay. Okay, bye!'"

He snorts his disapproval of the impending awkward phone call as he stacks his dishes in the dishwasher, popping a stick of gum in his mouth on the way out the door to keep his mouth semi-fresh. He swings his backpack into place, gets out his keys, and hops into his car.

Already, David can tell, this is going to be one Hell of a day. He just has yet to figure out if that bodes well or unwell for him.

Turning the key in the ignition and hearing his baby purr, he figures, backing out, that all he can do is wait and see which turn the day takes. It's his first of his final year, after all. So he better make this one count, impression-wise.

0o0o0

It's into the second week of school that Dave deems things having gone smoothly enough that he doesn't bother speeding things up after gym class when he takes a much-needed shower. Because, really? This will be the first tardy he's taken in forever, and he's a senior, so it's not like it matters all that much.

So, to drown out the hum of the water and the silence of the locker room, Dave starts to sing. He sings in the shower, a cliché if there ever was one, but he doesn't care. There's no gym during second period, and so he's safe and alone. No one is going to hear him.

…Scratch that. Someone already has.

"Dude, why aren't you in Glee Club? You sound rockin' awesome."

Dave jumps in his skin and looks past the row of showers to his right to find Sam Evans smiling with those big, pink lips of his.

Dave rolls his eyes and shuts off the faucet. "That's creepy, man. Why are you in here? Get out."

"What? I have first period gym with you, and I forgot my backpack," the blond replies with a chuckle. "But seriously, dude," he says, respecting Dave's privacy and turning away when the brunet steps out of the half-stall and dries himself off, heading for the pile of clothes on the bench near his locker. "You sing pretty well. It would be great if you joined Glee with us. We could sue a voice like yours."

"Not interested," Dave mutters as he shoulder-bumps his way past Evans to pick up a fallen shoe and step into it, not even bothering to untie the laces.

"Why not? It's fun, and everyone is really supportive and nice, even if there's drama. And hey, aren't you friends with Kurt and Finn, now? They would love it if you –" Sam prods onward, but Dave cuts him off abruptly with a weak, nervous shout.

"Shut _up, _man! I said I didn't want to!"

"…Okay, fine. Be that way," Sam sighs, clearly disappointed in the other teen. "But just… think about it, okay? You have talent, man. Don't waste it."

And as soon as the dorky blond says this, he turns and marches out, and no, Dave is not caught glimpsing at the boy's ass again, no way.

Sighing jaggedly, Dave shrugs on his backpack and ruffles his wet, shirt curls, using some of the extra water to smooth down his eyebrows. Glee Club, huh? It would be social suicide, but, as a senior, no one would mess with him, and it would be a good way to make some sort of statement, maybe even turn the club cool, since he is, after all, Dave Karofsky: resident tough-guy jock.

He'll think on it, sure. It's the least he can do… For Kurt, at least. Because Evans had a point: Kurt _would _love it if Dave joined the show choir group. Kurt would flip a chicken – or, rather, a shopping cart, since the boy wouldn't bother with something as "dirty" as poultry, and he likes to shop, right? – and maybe even be proud of the footballer. And Finn would definitely give him bro-props, and at this point, Dave could use all of those he can get if he wants to try and worm his way into the same group he slushied all last year.

And, with that thought, Dave heads into his second-period class, giving a brief apology to the teacher and taking the tardy she marks down next to his name on the attendance list.

0o0o0

Dave is just about to set foot into the choir room after school for the second Glee Club meeting of the year when Azimio drags him back with a firm grip around his arm.

"Dude, what's your deal? Are you seriously about to join ranks with those losers? I heard that you were gonna be part of Homo Explosion, singin' and dancin' it up like a –"

"Shut it, Z!" Dave whispers ominously. He glances around, making sure no one can hear them as he yanks his arm out of his friend's grip and steps off to the side in the hallway. He looks around one final time before locking gazes with the chocolate-skinned teen. "Look… I've been thinkin': why is it, even though one isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer and the other is nerdy enough to probably know how to speak the language of the Elves from Lord of the Rings, and both of them are in Glee Club, and yet Hudson and Evans are more popular than me?"

Az's face suddenly takes on a level of 'oh, I get it, now.' "…Hey, yeah! What is up with _that? _You're totally more badass than both of them."

"Right?" Dave agrees, and he loves how easy it is to steer Azimio in the right direction. Really, hiding who he truly is was easiest around Azimio, it was just getting annoying having to do it all the time. "So, I figured, if I did what they do – appeal to the masses and juggle both football and Glee Club – I can totally beat them in popularity in the long run, before I graduate."

"Aw, hell yeah! Why didn't I think of this? I mean, no way I'm joining it with you – you can be alone in suffering through all those show tunes, D – but hey, go right ahead. I approve your plan. And who knows? Maybe you'll get some chicks out of this," Azimio grins.

"Pfft, like I need your approval to do anything," Dave jokes, shoving Az a little. "Now get lost, bro. I have a dorky-ass club to get into."

"Right on, man. Right on…" the other says as he walks away.

Dave shakes his head. Thank God Azimio is gullible enough that, if one thing that makes sense is said to him, he'll let sleeping dogs lie and not bring it up again.

Dave gathers up his courage – or what scrap there is of it in his body – and takes a breath as he steps foot inside the chatting choir room.

Eyes fall on him, and it's the Spanish teacher who breaks the silence. "David," he says, looking mildly surprised, but sending Evans a look at clearly means he had been warned by his blond student that this might happen, "…Welcome. Have a seat, and we'll start auditions for this year's club soon."

There are, surprisingly, a few unfamiliar faces; freshman, maybe a sophomore or junior or two. But every single senior he knows is present and accounted for, every last one from the previous year's group sitting in their respective chairs.

Dave can't help himself; he glances over at Kurt, just to gauge his reaction. It wavers between the poles of 'surprised' and 'confused,' but all positive, whereas some of the other faces around Kurt's – Jones', Berry's, Chang's – are flickering between disapproval and suspicion.

The former puckhead clears his throat, and that seems to break Mr. Schuester from his reverie. "Guys!" he addresses cheerfully, "I am _so _happy to see so many faces, and I do hope that all of you plan on sticking with the club, and I hope, too, that some of your voices are as powerful as all of the ones I've heard, because I knew McKinley had talent hidden somewhere! So please, if you would, one at a time come up and sing an excerpt from a song you know off the top of your head? Anything, just so we can see where you fall in the club, harmoniously speaking?"

Dave knows the choir terms vaguely. He doesn't know the order, but he's heard the words used here and there; alto, tenor, bass, soprano. Things that sound like Italian or Latin or some shit, except for bass. That makes the most sense to Dave, because Dave knows drums thanks to Rock Band, and the lowest, main drum that carries the beat in the background is the bass.

All of the younger newbies try out first, which is fine with Dave, because he still has to squelch his fears like a bug in his stomach, because he's never felt this nervous before. Not when he apologized to this group of people last year (forced and rehearsed, but secretly genuine), and not when he did any of the performing during the week for the championship game last year. None of it was… permanent like this is, and this audience now feels so _personal _now that Kurt is in it…

Inhaling shakily, Dave stands once it's his turn to_… audition_ (he had been about to say, 'try out,'), now that everyone else has already gone.

He stands up at the front of the class of students watching him carefully. Kurt offers a small smile of encouragement, as if he understands. This helps Dave relax a little, and he exhales slowly. His gaze turns to Mr. Schuester. "Um, so… Is it okay if I don't remember all of it? I can only think of one song I keep hearing on the radio, but I might skip a few lyrics if I can't –"

"That is _perfectly_ all right, David," the teacher says coaxingly. He smiles softly. "Begin when you're ready. I don't need an entire song, only part of one; just enough to hear what your voice sounds like."

"…Okay," Dave says quietly. He clears his throat, hands in his letterman pockets, and looks at no one and nothing in particular as he starts to sing.

"_Crowded room is full of empty faces.  
><em>_The deepest conversation, full of lies.  
><em>_Another night with all my friends,  
><em>_The kind you never see again.  
><em>_I wonder if they'll see through my disguise…_

"_And I want to say that I can't hold back,  
><em>_And it might be wrong, but it's all I have…_

"_Come take me home tonight,  
><em>_Come take me home…_

"_Um, so… so take me home…_

"_Uh– I think I've found the perfect words to say,  
><em>_The satellite transmits my voice,  
><em>_Sometimes we don't have a choice –_

"_A-and I tried so hard, tried to be so strong…  
><em>_But you see the cracks, my defenses gone…_

"_Come take me home tonight,  
><em>_Come take me home…" _And he ends there, because he knows he messed up and skipped a few lines here and there, but these are the lines he remembers best from the radio repeats because he feels… somehow _connected _to them.

Mr. Schue is the first to clap for him. Kurt and Finn are next, and then everyone else – Santana even grinning a little – join in. Dave exhales, a small smile growing on his lips.

"See? Didn't I tell you?" Schuester is laughing warmly, "I _knew _you had it in you, David! You truly are talented, and with a little work on your nerves and lyric memorization, I believe you'll be a great addition to the club. Welcome."

And with a nod, Dave sits down again, face carefully composed once again, but not before Kurt catches his smile and winks at him.

Dave's face feels warm, but he brushes it off as nothing as the club soon concludes.


	2. Part 2

**A/N: Just so you know, I have no idea how long this fic will be, but the whole point of it is to be a fluffy, cute, Dave-centric fan-version of season 3. XD**

* * *

><p>"I never knew you could sing like that," Kurt remarks over the phone later that evening, the same evening as the most nerve-wrecking after-school event Dave has ever partaken in. "It was remarkable. Amateur in appearance and delivery, but the raw talent? I heard it. Some of your notes were tellingly strong."<p>

"R-really?" Dave murmurs, because he's always caught off-guard when Kurt compliments him. And he's learned through their phone conversations and one-on-one pseudo-PFFLAG meetings at one another's houses that he doesn't need to keep up his bravado around Kurt, because Kurt will simply scold him and verbally beat it out of him. So he stutters a little, and is always awkward-shy-weird, and yet Kurt never seems to mind.

"Yes," Kurt assures with a small laugh. "But now you're just fishing for compliments. So let's switch gears. What made you want to join, I wonder?"

_You. Evans discovering me singing in the locker room showers. What Schuester said last year while you were gone. But mostly you,_ Dave thinks to himself, but he wills the thought away with a shake of his head. He reclines backward in his computer chair, feeling the wheels move backward slightly on his bedroom carpet. "Just wanted to try and see if being a part-time geek would earn me some popularity points with the losers of the school, that's all. That, and 's not like I could just pretend Evans hadn't caught me singing in the shower."

Kurt seems a little disappointed in the reply, but if he knows the truth or not, he doesn't give any signs of such. "Funny how that keeps happening. We got Finn into the club because Mr. Schue heard him singing in the shower, and then we got Sam in the club because Finn heard him singing. I guess it was only right that Sam found you, then, huh?" Kurt muses.

"Yeah, small world," Dave mutters. He changes the topic as he fiddles with a thread on his beat up old chair. "What are you doing this Saturday?"

"Most likely nothing. I usually go out with Blaine on Fridays. Why?"

Dave unconsciously winces at the mention of Kurt's boyfriend. His heart tugs subtly, and he rubs his chest like it will make the feeling disappear. "Oh, uh, no huge reason. 'S just… Well, my birthday is on Sunday, and, uh, I wondered if you'd… You know, since you're my friend and all… If you'd come to my party? It'll be pretty big and busy, and since it's only September and still pretty warm most days, we're gonna be outside. That okay?"

"What? Of course it is! I didn't know it was your birthday," and there's a smile in his voice. "Eighteen already?"

"Huh? Uh, no. My birthday was right before the cut-off back in elementary school, so my parents shoved me right in. I'll graduate as one of the seventeen-year-old seniors," Dave remarks in a low mumble. He Fidgets a little, but he's glad that Kurt's agreeing to come. "So you'll show, then?"

"I believe that question deserves the obligatory _duhh _response. I'm coming, David, and I'm getting you a nice card and a small gift to go with it. Is there anything in particular you'd like?" Kurt replies swiftly, casually.

Dave nibbles on his bottom lip. If he weren't so messed up, and if he were the least bit romantic or mushy, he would answer with, 'a kiss from you,' or something to that extent. But he is all jumbled and unstable, and he isn't mushy or romantic. So, with delicate precision, he answers in an odd voice, "Just money is fine. I never know what I want, so I'll just buy something eventually. Maybe save up for a better cell phone, or a laptop for college or some shit."

"All right, reasonable enough," Kurt agrees mildly. "Money it is, then. But I won't tell you how much, because I need at least some element of surprise, or else it isn't fun," Kurt teases.

"…Not too much, Kurt. I wouldn't accept it all if you gave me, like, fifty bucks or something," the footballer reminds.

"Oh, Heavens, no. I know that. Anyway, it'll be the card that will count anyway. I don't pick out some cheesy one from the store, you know; I'm much classier than that. I use stationary and a new pen and practically compose a letter. But I can't draw anything outside of prissy fat-cats."

Dave bursts out laughing. "I'm sure if you drew one of those for Pierce, she'd flip out and hug you, though," he adds. "Anyway, thanks, man. I'll see you on Saturday, then. The party's at three, and ends at about sundown, so, like, seven or eight-ish?"

"Got it. But I'll also see you at school, too, in case you've forgotten," the counter-tenor jokes.

"Oh, right. Yeah, there too. Bye, Kurt."

"Goodbye, David."

And cue the dial tone.

Dave sits up in his chair, clicks off the phone, and some part of him buried way deep in the depths of his more homosexual side, he's a little disappointed in himself. Then again, when isn't he? So he shrugs it off, returns the house phone to its charger out in the hall, and climbs into his bed to get started on his homework, since his math classes never rest, even this early in the year.

0o0o0

"Hey, dude; up for killin' Nazi zombies on Black Ops today? I'll actually be online with my mic on this time, so you don't have to talk to angry, cussin' middle schoolers," Azimio offers with a nod in Dave's direction as they pass by one another between periods.

Dave shakes his head. He starts walking backward so what he can face his friend as he replies, "No can do, Az. Gotta go shopping with Dad to get the stuff for my birthday shindig. You know, grillin' food like chicken, chips, dip, soda…"

"Oh, right! Yeah, almost forgot you actually have to _buy _that stuff and it doesn't just magically show up at your house. That's cool. See you tomorrow at three, then, Big D."

"See ya, Z."

0o0o0

"This would be a great time to tell them, David," Paul remarks as gently as possible as his son loads snack foods into the cart. "At the party, that is to say. I'm sure your friends would be supportive –"

"No, Dad," Dave returns firmly, lowly. He looks around to see if anyone is catching on. No one in the grocery store seem to care; they're too absorbed in their own shopping. Dave sighs, his eyes locking on his father's. "I just… can't tell them yet, okay? Maybe not ever. Not in high school, anyway. When I'm off at college where no one knows me? Sure, yeah, I might be open about it then. Whatever. It'd be nice to… To date someone who isn't like Santana Lopez."

"She was an odd girl," Paul Karofsky frowns.

"That's 'cause she's gay, too, so she wasn't into me, but blackmailed me into being her fake boyfriend. That's what was weird about her," Dave retorts grumpily, but still quietly.

His father nods. "That makes more sense. But still, David, I don't like seeing you hide it all the time; why does it matter if they know? Shouldn't it only matter who sticks with you afterward, like me, or your friends the Hummel-Hudsons?"

"Well, yeah, I guess, but…" and Dave drifts off, unsure. He leaves the conversation alone; it's not one that should be held in the middle of the frozen foods aisle, anyhow. The teen sighs heavily from his nose and keeps his eyes focused on the task at hand: picking out food and drinks for his twenty-to-thirty-something list of expected guests who RSVP'd.

They make small talk all the way home, even as they put groceries away. And then Dave goes into his room and, without thinking twice, calls Kurt.

0o0o0

The party winds up being a disaster.

Azimio and half of the rest of the football team – Puckerman included – keep coming up to Dave and asking, "When is your old man leavin'? I got some booze in the car that we can pass around!"

And Dave keeps having to remind them, "No, man, this isn't that kind of party, okay? I just wantg to hang out with people and shit! 'Sides, my Dad knows that one of you assholes would do that, so that's why he's sticking around. He hasn't trusted me with parties since that time I came home drunk!"

So they back off for a while, but soon someone else comes along, and at one point, Dave is tempted to call the whole thing off early.

He skips out on eating the main course of food, his stomach only full of various cans of pop, and he ventures up to the quiet retreat of his bedroom.

Teenage birthday parties are weird anyway. They stopped being cute and fun when everybody reached puberty and could no longer have Scooby-Doo or other variously themed parties with clowns or whatever.

Dave sighs, bending over in his seat at the edge of his bed to drop his face into his hands. He just wanted to play music, volleyball and badminton, and dance or chat or laugh with people. That's all. Eat some junk food, drink some carbonated beverages, and simply _celebrate _and_ enjoy _being one year closer to being able to do whatever the Hell he wanted.

…Is that so wrong?

Apparently so, because some people want to ruin it by bringing water balloons, make out with their boyfriends and girlfriends in the corners, and suggest ditching Mr. Karofsky in favor of alcohol.

"I need to get some new friends," Dave whispers to himself.

"I'd say," comes a voice at the door, and Dave's head jerks upward to find Kurt Hummel standing there, a can of diet Sprite in his hand. "Why is the birthday boy up here all alone, I wonder?"

"…No reason. G'head back to the party, Kurt. I'll be down in a sec."

"I daresay not. You look upset, David. What's wrong? This is your birthday party; go have some fun," Kurt says gently, moving to sit beside Dave on the plain blue-and-white striped sheets.

Dave looks away. "It's nothing; pointless teenage angst. It'll pass."

"Does this have to do with your father wanting you to come Out today?" Kurt whispers.

"God, Kurt, _no! _Not everything revolves around my sexuality, all right? Sometimes I just want to… I dunno, _be. _I want things to go the way I expect them to, like people just chillin' out instead of asking me if they can 'liven things up' by getting wasted. Sometimes I just want to be around people who aren't total douchebags like… like I know I was," he says, first heated and frustrated, jumping off of the bed, but then slowing to a stop, standing with his hands limp at his sides as he glances up to meet Kurt's gaze.

Kurt stands slowly from the bed, graceful as always, and leans over to the side to set down his can onto Dave's bedside table. He turns back to his friend and looks at him carefully, blue-green eyes searching Dave's face. It takes all of Dave's willpower to hold that gaze without revealing anything on his face or dropping his own gaze.

"You were a douchebag like many of them, it's true, but you've changed a great deal, David. And if you don't want to, you don't _have _to associate with people like that any longer. The best thing about high school is that you're _allowed _to change your mind and find who you are and the whole purpose of it is to see what you want; both for college and a career, as well as your _life, _and that includes friendships, cliques, and the like," Kurt tells him firmly, placing a hand on the slightly taller boy's shoulder.

"…I can really do that? Just… disregard all of it and tell them all to fuck off?" Dave says, snorting a little in disbelief, but also looking genuinely intimidated by the concept.

Kurt smiles gently. "Yes, of course. Like I said, that's the whole point. You don't have to be a jerk about it, but if you think that's the only way it will stick, then go with it. Storm out there and tell them to leave if they can't have fun without getting drunk, or tell them all that you're gay, or just go back out there and say nothing, and then come Monday, break off whichever acquaintances you wish, one at a time. It doesn't matter, David. Just know that life is full of choices, and they're all open to you."

He takes a step back and starts to move for the door.

Dave twitches, partially turning toward Kurt, and then he stops himself, biting his cheek after licking his lips worriedly.

He could call Kurt back. He could move and grab Kurt by the sleeve. He could say, 'thank you.' He could kiss him.

He _will _do none of that.

Instead, he nods, and, after a moment, follows Kurt out the door and back downstairs.

"Where'd you go, man?"

"Hey, there he is! D, hey, over here!"

"Dave! Dude, you, like, disappeared!"

Some of them showed up high, some of them want to get drunk, and some of them are genuinely being friendly.

Dave puts on his game-face, the hockey and not football sort, and goes up to kids one at a time, telling them to leave, because the party's over.

He tells some of the high ones that he doesn't want to see their mugs ever again, because he doesn't want to be a pothead like any of them.

He marches right up to Azimio and a few other football buds like Strando and says that he is no way in Hell drinking again until he's legal, and if they don't like that, they can leave.

Dave feels powerful, satisfied with himself, and like a small weight has been lifted from him as he goes around telling people off, using his hurt at how they only came for a party and not because it was about him or his birthday as fuel.

Paul Karofsky doesn't protest once he sees what's going on. He simply lets it happen, because he's been waiting for his son to fully come to his senses about whom he associates himself with.

Azimio trails after Dave, barking questions, asking why Dave's being this way, and who died and made him king of the party, and why he has to go and be such a buzzkill.

And Before Dave can lash out at his so-called friend and explain that he's being this way because he's tried of pretending, and that he _is _the king of the party since this is _his _house and _his _birthday get together, and that there shouldn't _be _a buzz to kill when Finn steps in.

Finn talked to Kurt after Kurt came back downstairs to the party. Finn knows everything anyway, and he's on Dave's side, now. So Finn breaks up the would-be fight, insists that Azimio leave, and soon, half of the party is gone, and Dave is collapsing onto his patio furniture, the music a low hum in the background, and his emotions drained.

Kurt falls into the chair beside him. "That was a courageous thing you did, David. Handled roughly, but still courageous. Most people as affected by peer pressure as you wouldn't have listened to me."

"Yeah, well. I was tired of their collective bullshit, and I'm tired of being around people who don't even know or like me, and only say they do. And you know what, Kurt? Being 'popular' is freaking hard. I don't like it. I only did it because it was expected of me. But now? Now, I just… I don't want to hide, and with those people, I always had to. So bye-bye to rubbish and all that. I'm done."

Finn grins and sits in the chair on Dave's other side at the table on the patio. "That's awesome, man. Totally badass. Good for you."

"Whatever."

"No, seriously! It was kinda like King Kong on his rampage, but it kinda needed to be done, you know? I'll have to talk to Puck, though… he was one of the idiots who wanted to get beer up in here," Finn remarks with a slightly frown at the end.

"Hey, so. Did you want my card?" Kurt says suddenly, breaking off the odd feeling in the air like removing icicles from the side of a gutter. He whips it out from a pocket in the complicated-and-fashionable light jacket he's wearing, even in the mild temperature of the day.

Dave, despite himself, cracks a small grin. "Yeah, sure."

"Oh, I got you one, too. But it's not fancy like Kurt's," Finn adds, moving to take his own out of his jeans pocket and unfold it once.

Fancy. Like Kurt's. If only Finn knew of Dave's little nickname for Kurt back in sophomore year. Still, Dave shrugs it off and takes both their cards into his hands. He opens Finn's first.

'Kurt said to give you money so you could save for something. Hope twenty is cool with you, man! Happy birthday! Stay awesome. – Finn Hudson.'

It's store-bought, an purposely blank on the inside for the buyer to write whatever they want. On the cover of the card, however, there is a cartoon mallard with too-large human sunglasses on, and it says at the top, 'So you're the lucky duck who's getting older today?'

It was good for a snort of laughter and a smile, anyway. "Thanks, Finn," Dave remarks, and surprisingly, he doesn't say it sarcastically like he normally would. He holds out his fist, and Finn bumps it. They hear a few people move from outside into the house, and they decide to follow. Dave looks over at Kurt. "Will I be embarrassed if I read yours now? It's not gayer than a Pride Parade, is it?"

"Well, I am mayor of Gaytown, so it might be a little flamboyant for your tastes. Read it later if you want, it doesn't matter," Kurt shrugs, and acts casual as he moves away, leaving Dave to himself for a moment.

Dave glances down at the card in his hands. The envelope is maroon, darkly so, like purplish red-brown blood. There's gold wax sealing it shut with a loopy K as the stamp. Where the Hell did Hummel find something like that to use? The wedding section at Michael's craft store or something? And the gold pen on the front, simply 'David' is a little weird, too.

The jock shakes his head, brushing it off, and slips the card into his back pocket where it can rest without getting folded. He finishes up the rest of his party chatting with the ten or so people remaining form the thin-out, and they all seem like real friends; some of them are from the Glee Club, and some of them are cousins that couldn't leave, but it's fine. It really is.

Dave doesn't need a horde of followers. Just a close circle of friends, he finally understands and realizes, is _better._

0o0o0

Dave doesn't dare to open Kurt's card until the evening of his actual birthday, after seeing relatives all day and eating gratuitous amounts of cake and ice cream. He's relaxing in bed when he sees it sticking out of his jeans on the floor, the ones he wore yesterday.

He paces over to the fallen clothes, picks up the maroon and gold card, and turns it over in his hands a few times as he climbs back in bed, leaning back against the headboard with one foot tucked under the opposite knee. Dave tears into it, running his thumb under the wax until it lifts away, and then he zips the card out and stares at it for a moment.

It's the color of old parchment, even though it is clearly regular computer-like paper that was printed onto, but kind of thick. There is a dark brown scrolling of swirls and _fleur de lis_ and ivy running along one side and onto the bottom, near Kurt's cursive signature.

Kurt's handwriting isn't girly or flawless like Dave expected. It's messy, spacious, slanted to the left, and legible, but not quite neat. He wrote in black, thankfully, and this is what he has to say, along with the forty dollars in twenty-dollar bills he has tucked into the folds of the letter/card:

'Happy birthday, David.

'_I know we didn't start off as friends – whatever deity you believe in must only know that I, at one point, dislike you intensely because of how you treated me – but we've moved past that, and I think it's amazing that I can come to your birthday party, probably chat it up with your father and a few of the guests that are friends in common, and not feel awkward or frightened._

'_Similarly, I think it's wonderful how far you've progressed to even take the help I offered you, and come to accept yourself. I think you have, I truly do. I think you're all right with yourself now that more people know about the real you and have proved to you that you won't lose anything valuable because being who you actually are isn't any different to the real David people have known before age made sexuality an issue. _

'_I know I must talk a little too much, but know that, from the bottom of my heart, David, that I am happy for you, and happy to be here to celebrate another year of your life with you, because underneath all that fear and pain, you're an amazing person I am proud to call my friend._

'_With tender care,_

_Kurt Elizabeth Hummel_

'_P.S. And before you start on my middle name, no, it's not actually the one on my birth certificate, but it's one I adopted for myself after my deceased mother. I plan on using it as my stage name. It has a nice ring to it (despite how you might be planning to tease me about it), though, doesn't it?_

_P.P.S. Doesn't this stationary remind you of Harry Potter? I thought so when I saw it, so I had to get it. I thought, being the secret nerd you are – don't try to deny it, I've seen your comic book collection, Star Trek manga included – and so I thought you might appreciate it.'_

Dave doesn't know why he re-reads the letter-styled card a few times over. He doesn't know why he's smiling, or why he almost feels like crying. But he does understand, at the very least, that burgeoning warmth in his chest like a blooming sunflower.

XXX

**Part 3.**


	3. Part 3

**A/N: Some light drama, as per the cheesy way Glee sometimes does it (okay, so really, it's just the cheesy way that _I_ do things). HURRAY! ;P**

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><p>"…Um. Thanks for what you said in your card, Kurt. But, uh, did you really have to give me forty bucks? That's, like, twice what Finn or anyone else besides my relatives gave me…" Dave begins on the phone after their usually awkward hellos.<p>

"Ha, I know. You said not fifty, so I went with the second-highest round number. I wanted to be generous to help get you to your goal, whatever it may be," Kurt replies effortlessly, a smile in his tone. Dave can hear something like piano music in the background.

"What are you doing?" he asks, frowning a little.

"Oh, me? I'm just filing my nails and listening to the fourteen-minute-long piano solo _Rhapsody in Blue._ It's my favorite of the classics," the slighter boy answers as he shifts, and Dave can imagine him putting Dave on loudspeaker while he filed his nails.

"Humph. I know that one," Dave grunts noncommittally. "It always makes me think of New York or a big city or something. I think they even used it in that Fantasia 2000 cartoon movie-thing I saw once as a kid that Disney made."

He can just imagine Kurt quirking an eyebrow as he replies, "Oh, so you know if it? Color me slightly impressed, David."

"Yeah, but only slightly, right?" Dave jokes sarcastically. He leans back in his chair and pins the phone to his shoulder with his head and laces his hands behind the back of the chair. "So, anyway. What you said in there. You were right, it was a little gay in that I-care-about-you-my-dear-friend kind of way, but not so bad."

"No?" Kurt inquires, grinning in his tone again.

"…No. It was actually kinda… nice, I dunno. Don't make me say it again, Hummel."

"All right, all right; no need to resort to last names, David. I'm just amused that I embarrassed you a little," Kurt chuckles, his voice closer to the phone this time.

Dave tenses up, his hands dropping as he grips the phone, nearly dropping it. "Wh-what! You didn't… I mean, I'm not embarrassed!"

"Sure you aren't," Kurt teases, "And I won Prom Queen because everyone things I'm more fabulous than all the female candidates," he answers, and Dave can't believe Kurt can take a horrible prank like that so lightly, especially when Dave knows Kurt, and Kurt most likely ran out to cry that time before he returned and accepted the dumb piece of plastic (of which Dave has on his shelf next to a Prom photo of him and Santana, as a matter of fact).

"…" Dave is speechless for a moment, his mouth agape but nothing coming out. Then, quietly at first but gaining strength, he says, "Fine, okay. I'll admit I was a little embarrassed that anyone would say those sorts of things to me, namely another _dude, _but I got over it. It's _you, _after all. I should expect touching crap like that from you."

To Dave's relief, Kurt laughs this off with a breathy, almost smug chuckle. _This must be how Kurt normally is with his friends,_ Dave realizes. _Witty, calm, but can laugh at things easily._ It feels good, being close enough to the counter-tenor to earn that privilege, the one that allows him to hear Kurt be this way. "Yes, you should expect it by now. It's just how I am, when I'm not being bitchy-defensive or witty-sarcastic, or generally judgmental. I'm trying to grow out of that, actually. It won't suit me entirely when I'm a professional."

"A professional _what_, exactly, Fancy?" Dave replies with a smirk, regaining his composure and relaxing into his chair again.

"Interior designer. Fashion designer. You know, something completely stereotypically gay for a man of my stature, but still something I enjoy and that will get me some _moolah,_" and once again, Dave can just imagine the finger-rubbing hand gesture to go along with that saying in Kurt's impressionistic tone. "What about you, Dave? What do you plan on doing?"

The footballer hesitates. "Uh… Well, I want to go to Michigan State. It's nice up there, and the school's pretty good. They have awesome hockey and football teams, so I'm hoping to get there on scholarship. And… well, I want to study math. I'm really good at it; I can remember numbers by only seeing or hearing them once, and I'm pretty fast at figuring out problems and doing formulas in my head when given the variables. It just makes sense to me, you know? Math is constant, unlike everything else in my life."

"…Surprisingly deep for a jock," Kurt muses. "And that is the least hamhock-ish thing you've said in a long while, your birthday party excluded. Color me further impressed."

"Shut up, Kurt." His tone is serious, but he's smiling behind the guise of his home phone.

Kurt seems to be smiling as well when he says in retort, "Fine, fine, I'll stuff it. But you know, this conversation is only further proving to me that I was right in befriending you, despite our past. I wasn't lying in my birthday card to you; you're amazing."

"…Why do you do that? Ruin normal moments and make them like that?" Dave grumbles, his face hot. He doesn't like hearing Kurt call him something he's not, and he definitely doesn't like Kurt using the a-word when Dave _knows _that Kurt must have used the same word for his precious boyfriend _Dapper Eyebrows _at some point.

And now he can hear the frown, the reprimand, and the _hurt _in the other boy's tone. "And what's _that _supposed to mean, Dave? Can't I be nice to my _friend_?"

"Not when you say it so someone who doesn't deserve it!" Dave snaps back before he can help himself.

"Oh-ho _no, _David Karofsky. See, it isn't me who ruins moments; _you _do when you retaliate like this. You know, I get a little sick and tired of your self-pity routine; I thought you were fine with things?" Kurt says icily, and Dave can't hear the piano music in the background any longer. In fact, he can't hear a thing besides the tiny buzz of the phone connection between them in the small space of wires connecting their voices together.

"I'm still not, okay? Not… not with _you, _anyhow. So can we just be done here? Good _night, _Kurt."

And he's about to hang up and toss down the phone violently onto his bed when he hears Kurt say in a shrill voice, "What do you _mean, '_not with me?' You're making no sense, David!"

Growling, Dave brings the phone back to his ear and answers harshly, "I'm not fine when it comes to _you, _Captain _Oblivious_, because reading or hearing you say those things to me throws me off, okay? It throws me off, because I want to keep things in their place in my head, that in this little slot, it says that Kurt is my friend, and in this little slot, it says that Kurt is dating someone, and in this other little slot _I keep my feelings for him a secret _because in another slot, it says that _he has no interest in me._"

Kurt is utterly silent on the other end of the line.

And Dave can't take the silence, so he – for real this time – presses 'end' on the phone and tosses it aside.

And then he slinks off his computer chair and drops to the floor, putting his face in his hands again, because once again, he knows that he screwed things up, because he can't control himself, nor stop himself from saying stuff, and it's all so haywire.

"Just kill me now," he whispers, reminiscent of a certain moment in the principal's office, and he groans all over again with despair, because he feels like such a dumbass for thinking of Kurt _yet again._

0o0o0

That phone conversation was on Monday.

It's not Friday, and Kurt hasn't seen his mostly-closeted friend because that friend has been avoiding him, even skipping out on Glee Club to do football (sometimes only extra practice) instead, or simply go home.

Kurt's been calling all week since Wednesday.

Dave doesn't answer until it's Saturday evening, and he's back from seeing a movie with his Dad.

"What?" Dave says curtly.

"Come over right now," is all Kurt says, and then he hangs up. Demanding little bitch.

Dave gets on his jacket and grabs his keys. "Be back later, Pop," he says vaguely. "Going to Kurt's."

"Just don't break curfew!" Paul reminds as his son is out the door. He sighs gravely and turns another page in his book.

Outside, Dave wastes no time in the light chill of early October to get the heat running in his car. He then drives in silence – no radio, no CD – to the other boy's house, all the while cursing himself and Kurt and the whole damn world. And yeah, maybe cursing God a little bit, too, but constantly landing him in situations like these where he has to 'man up and face the consequences' and all that jazz.

(Insert loud, crisp _harrumph _here.)

When he reaches the Hummel-Hudson household, there is a single car in the driveway; Kurt's, because the parents must be still at work and Finn is probably, once again, out with Rachel. He parks behind Kurt's car, leaving room on the other half of the driveway in case someone comes home early.

He doesn't plan on staying very long, anyway.

Dave takes short, hesitant strides up to the door, and before he reaches the handle, Kurt's yanking the front door open with one hand while the other is placed on his hip, one of his feet tapping impatiently on the hardwood flooring inside. He looks irritated, maybe even a little pissed. Dave swallows.

"Uh…"

"Will you just get inside here already?" Kurt retorts with a roll of his eyes, reaching out and grabbing Dave by his shirtfront, hauling him inside. Dave could have made a 'that's what she said' joke if he were the same man he was last year. But he isn't, so he didn't.

"Ow! You're making me trip on stuff; leggo!"

Kurt releases his friend with a dainty, annoyed hand gesture, his face mirroring it, looking just a little bit like the bitchy-Kurt from sophomore year. "Serves you right. Do you even know why you're here?"

Dave straightens himself and dusts off one knee of his jeans where he fell during the yanking process. He says slowly, trying to even out his breathing, "…No, actually, I don't. I was gonna ask _you _that. In fact, I wasn't even gonna show up; and you know what? I'm beginning to regret it!"

Kurt _does _look furious after that. He folds his arms over his chest and leans most of his weight onto one socked foot. He's frowning, his mouth is stern, but it's his eyes that nearly tear Dave to shreds on the spot. Kurt's eyes look a little watery and _hurt. _Again. And it stabs at Dave's heart for a second, the single pang making him wince.

"Well," Kurt breathes out, sounding like Dave's mother when she's frustrated and fed-up with one of her son's mistakes, "I sincerely hope you don't mean that, David, because the _reason _why I invited –"

"_Coerced _–"

Kurt licks his lips, blinking away the water in his eyes. "The reason why I _convinced_ you to come over," he rephrases quickly, "Is because I don't like being blatantly ignored or avoided. I ran away once, to Dalton, but I learned my lesson never to run away from a problem or troubling situation ever again. And I would _appreciate _it if you returned the favor, because I don't want _you _running away from _me, _either."

Dave isn't sure what to say, so he continues to only look at Kurt indirectly, peering at him in his peripherals as he looks about the room instead, wondering if he should sit down and take Kurt's fury because standing like this might intimid– but no, that isn't right, because Kurt stormed into the locker room even when he was scared shitless of his offender and wasn't very intimidated by size then, so why would he be so now?

Dave instead shoves his hands into his pockets and drops his eyes to stare at the floor. His shoes are still on, and he feels a little guilty about that, because during his summer visits here, Mrs. Hudson-Hummel didn't like shoes on in the house.

Kurt suddenly sighs during the silence, making Dave's head snap upward to steal a glance at the paler boy. Kurt's expression is softer in his brows – he looks more worried than angry – and yet his light pink lips remain in that firm line.

"David… Just because you let what you did slip, doesn't mean I'm going to stop being your friend. Don't you understand that? I thought it was an implied rule or another that it doesn't have to be the end of the world or a relationship just because…" He hesitates, swallowing, his own eyes finally flickering away for a second, "Just because I c-can't return those sentiments because I'm in a different relationship with someone else."

The word _can't _catches in Kurt's throat, and it stands out to Dave for more reasons that the stutter of the word. Can't? Can't means unable to currently do due to a block of some sort, but it doesn't mean that he _wouldn't_. Kurt even stated the block: dating Blaine. But he never said that he doesn't at all return at least some of Dave's feelings. After all, 'I can't' is what Dave remembers vividly saying at Prom, and it's because of a lot of blocks why he can't come out of the closet, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't eventually do it, or that he isn't gay. It just meant that he _wasn't able to in that moment. _

With this fast thought process whirring through the churning gears in Dave's head, he nods once, curtly, and looks Kurt in the eyes. "Y-yeah," he stumbles with his voice, trying to smooth it out, "I get that." He shifts his weight form foot to foot for a second, looking down. He shrugs. "So… what not, then? Is everything suddenly hunky-dory?"

Kurt smiles faintly, one corner of his mouth curling upward in a would-be half-smile. "Not yet. First, I want you to apologize to me for trying to get rid of me, and then I want you to come over here and give me a much-needed and long-overdue hug."

Dave's face scrunches up, and he looks Kurt in the eye. "A _hug? _I'll say I'm sorry, that's just owed, but seriously, dude? A _hug? _That's pretty… Well, _gay_!"

Kurt smirks with a bigger half-smile this time. "_Well, _David, I don't know if you've _noticed, _but you are I are both gay, so I deem a hug entirely appropriate for the pair of us. So get your ass over here and hug me, and tell me all about how you're in the wrong and I'm always right and we'll be the best of chums forever and ever." He opens his arms in welcome.

"…God, Kurt, just shut up," Dave grumbles, but there are the beginnings of a smile on his lips despite himself. He awkwardly starts to move, but then stops. "You know, I only avoided you because I thought you wouldn't…" And he can't finish his sentence, so he blows air out his mouth in frustration and licks his lips before trying again, "Why do you even put up with me?"

"At first, it was because I know you needed someone who understood, and I seemed to be the only likely candidate lying around, so I filled in the shoes of your gay mentor. But when it comes down to it, Dave, I like being your friend. You have your moments where I see the kind of person you can be when you're not mindlessly being a jerk, and I'm quite fond of that person. But you're hesitating touching me, and that's starting to get annoying," Kurt answers, and at the end, he's full-on smiling. He raises his arms again and twitches his fingers in the common Kung-Fu-esque gesture of 'I'm ready, so bring it.'

Dave laughs a bit, mostly out of nerves, and steps over to where Kurt stands in the living room. Steadily, because he isn't used to hugging anyone – much less a peer of his who's also the same gender _and _sexuality – and awkwardly puts his arms around Kurt's shoulders as Kurt leans against him, arms around the muddle of Dave's back, over his ribs, hands locking over his spine.

He tenses, then, because Kurt's upper torso is warm and firm against Dave's own, and Kurt's lifting himself up onto the pads of his feet to rest his shin on the junction between Dave's neck and shoulder. Dave blinks, starts to relax, and Kurt can probably feel the shift in muscles. Dave's eyes soften, and all at once, he can smell Kurt, feel Kurt's lungs and heartbeat faintly, and all he feels is warmth.

Kurt lets out a little hum. "You know, you might be in football and you were in hockey, but just face it, Dave: you're not built like a linebacker, you're built like a teddy bear. You're perfect for hugs."

"Say shit like that, and I'm walking out the door right now," Dave retorts half-heartedly. He secures his arms around Kurt's shoulders and moves his head just slightly, enough to catch another whiff of whatever amazing, lightly sweet combination makes up Kurt's scent.

"No, you wouldn't. I can say whatever I want," Kurt whispers. "But I'm still waiting for my apology, so I wouldn't let you walk anyhow."

Dave cringes a little. He doesn't want to apologize until he's had his fill of this (friendly?) embrace, because Kurt was right, it is overdue. Dave's probably needed a hug more than once, and if he had gotten one – from his mother, his father, or a friend who wouldn't care about being called gay for it – he might have been less cruel sooner. Or would have changed sooner. Or both.

And it's odd, too, because the second he relaxed, something switched like the flick of a light inside of Dave. He went from _keep away from Kurt _to _never let Kurt go. _And he isn't sure if that feeling is friendly or romantic or _what _it is, and at the moment, he doesn't really want to figure it out.

Dave is trembling, but his voice wavering and his hands clenching to cease movement are the only indicators. "I'm sorry I spent the week ignoring you, Kurt. It just…" he sighs, "It hurt, you know? I felt like a moron telling you what I did, and then I didn't want to see you because I didn't want to hear you say, 'That's sweet, but no thank you, because you're not my type.' And, well, I thought maybe we shouldn't be friends when…" _When I want to be more than that, I want to kiss you again, and yet I don't want you to dump your boyfriend because of me,_ Dave finishes mentally.

"David…" Kurt begins quietly, and he's pulling out of the hug, but even as they drop their arms from each other, all Kurt does is lean away; he doesn't take a step back or anything. They are close enough to see one another up close, and it's a little unnerving for Dave to see so much detail on Kurt's face, like each individual eyelash. The jock blinks, and Kurt goes on, "While I admit it was a little foolish at the time, that doesn't make it wrong to be honest with me. And…" He worries his lip for a second, "Good people are my type, okay? Boys who are nice to me, who are friendly to me even when they know I'm gay, but don't care – _That's _my type. I know what you're thinking of. So yes, at the time, you _weren't _my 'type' because you were a bully, relentless and mean-spirited, and that's why I didn't like you. But, now…" Kurt looks away, "Well, let's just say I've always had a thing for guys in sports, Finn and Sam being previous examples. And Puck a teensy bit, too, when he wasn't being an asshole."

The second Kurt offers a tiny smile afterward, their gazes reconnecting, Dave can't help himself; he wants to kiss Kurt, it's true, and he would have if Kurt were still single, but he honestly respects that Kurt is dating Blaine (before, when he first met Blaine, however, he was beyond jealous, and that's why he shoved Blaine into the chain-link on the stairwell), so he changes tactic at the last second and bring Kurt into another embrace, this one tighter and needier.

Kurt gasps on impact, and soon, his hands are coming up to fist some of the fabric on Dave's back. Lower, this time, but still roughly in the middle. "David?"

"Thanks for that, Kurt," Dave whispers, and he wants to stroke Kurt's hair, he wants to say so much more – and still, the overwhelming desire to kiss the shorter boy (_anywhere, _because it doesn't have to be his lips) is there – but he forces himself to release Kurt and step away. "I really should go, now. See you at school on Monday."

And then he's gone, leaving what might be a bewildered Kurt behind, or perhaps a contented one, he doesn't check, but he does march back out into the early October air and smile to himself before he hops into his car and drives back home.


	4. Part 4

**A/N: I somehow feel like all this fluff has been done before. It probably has. :/ **

**#sigh# Oh, well~! This is just because I wanted something sweet and whatnot, like I said before in part 2's A/N. So keep reading if you like, and more reviews never hurt. ;D**

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><p>He approaches Dave with an odd air about him, one that doesn't suit his normal personality. "Dude, are we still bros, or what?"<p>

Dave turns away from the contents of his locker to raise an eyebrow at Azimio Adams. "Sure, I guess. I mean, I haven't heard much from you since my party, but…"

"That's 'cause I thought you were pissed at me, D! You looked like you were gonna tear me a new one last-last Saturday, or whenever. And me and the guys have all been like, 'What is up with Karofsky?' It's like, ever since you joined that damn Glee Club, you don't give a rat's ass about us anymore!" Azimio rants, his signature offended pouting scowl on his face.

"That's because those people are _real _friends to me, Az. I can be myself around them without them judging me or calling me a fag for liking to dance and sing and crap, and they actually care what I did over the weekend or summer break or whatever because they're _decent _human beings!" Dave barks in response, a sudden rush of anger flooding through him, and he doesn't understand why.

Azimio has been his closest friend since the fourth grade. They've always been tight, even when Dave had a falling out with being Finn's friend sometime around fifth grade or so, and even when Dave got tossed into a dumpster in seventh grade by some eight graders, and since then, decided to become a bully himself. Azimio stuck by him through all of that, awkward body changes and new experiences and all, and yet… Dave doesn't want this, not the way it's become, as a friendship.

"What the Hell is up with you? What does being 'decent' have to do with anything? I thought we were cool! Why you actin' like this, Karofsky?" Azimio dares, pushing a little.

Dave pushes back with more pressure. "_Because, _Az. You don't get it. Okay? There's just some stuff about me you don't know anymore, and it makes me feel like our friendship is a lie. Do you want that, man? Do you want to hang out with someone you hardly know?"

"What are you talking about?" Azimio frowns, almost roars. Some students going to their classes are beginning to stare.

Dave grits his teeth. He doesn't want to come Out to Az, not here, not now, not like this. Preferably, not ever, but he just might have to.

Dave looks around. The boy's locker room is nearby. His hazel eyes panning back to Az's nearly black ones, he replies, "If you're dying to know, then come with me. I don't want what I got to say to you to spread like wildfire just yet." And with that, he turns sharply on his heel and marches into the locker room.

Azimio is right behind him, looking confused and ticked off, but compliable enough to listen. "Out with it, D. What you hidin'?"

"Lemme explain a little first, okay?" Dave says with a huff similar to a sigh. He licks his lips, eyes searching the background, and then shakes his head. Looking at his friend, he says, "Know how I picked on Hummel the most? How I would slushie his friends, and harass Hudson, but I would save most of the locker slams for him?"

"…Yeah, but that's 'cause he's the gay kid. No one in their right mind would want to be around a dude who might check them out. It's creepy," Azimio retorts firmly.

"No? What if Hummel wouldn't do that 'cause he really doesn't give a shit about guys like us? Gay people are just normal people, Az, and it took a lot for me to wrap my flimsy brain around that. Some straight people are sluts, some gay people are sluts, but most of both are just regular Joes like us, people who live and breathe and go to school and maybe have a crush on, like, one person and then maybe date someone they really like. It's all the same. So why'd we really do it? Why did _I _really do it? Use that muscle in your numbskull, Az. I want you to actually _think._"

Azimio's dark, nearly black eyes search Dave's face. And then his eyebrows shift and his lips part in a would-be gape, and Dave knows that he's figured it out. "You… You're not, not – _Are you_?"

"Bingo, Adams. We have a freaking winner!" Dave says with false cheer. He make a gesture in the air that is nearly like, 'all of the awards to you, Brainiac' in a sarcastic manner. "I picked on Kurt because he was what I couldn't reveal myself to be: homosexual. That, and, okay, I kind of had a crush on him, too, but. Like you need to know that."

Azimio blinks a few times, and then shakes his head. He cracks a nervous smile. "This better be a joke, bro. Tell me you're joking."

Dave gives him the most frighteningly serious glare he has in his artillery. "…Do I look like I'm joking, Z? If you think about it, it explains a whole lot."

"…Like how you never wanted to go swimming with anyone, even me. Or shower with everyone else. And always look down when you got dressed in gym," Azimio murmurs, letting the concept sink in as his thoughts wandered, his gaze elsewhere. He snaps back to himself and looks at his friend. "So what now? If people knew, you'd be beyond screwed, and I'm not gonna lie, I kind of want to back up a few steps."

Dave rolls his eyes. "I'm the same as I've always been, Az. Sheesh. You really that scared of 'catching the gay' or something? Or of me hitting on you? I told you, I like Kurt."

"Uh. No. Sorta? I dunno, whatever. That's weird to think about, though. Hummel, really? I mean, he's practically a girl, so I dunno if he counts… Sure you're not just, like, confused? Bi-curious or whatever?" Azimio laughs hysterically, looking like he's about to bolt because he can't handle this awkwardness right now. He fidgets where he stands.

"He's not _that _girly. And yes, I'm sure; I ki… Let's just say I tried it out, and didn't really do anything with Santana when I was dating her, and if you recall, dude, I never really dated any other girls," Dave answers stiffly. "But, Az? Whether we're still friends or not – that's really up to you, now, I guess – I'd really like it if you kept this between us 'til I figure stuff out more."

"Oh. Yeah, true. Er. Okay," Azimio grunts, and he nods. "And, uh, I won't tell anyone, bro. 'Cause as weird as this is, this is your deal, and I don't want no part in it. Plus, some of the guys might cream ya, and I don't wan tto lose my best friend."

"So… you're still gonna hang out with me? Even though I'm…?" Dave says slowly, his hopes rising a bit despite himself.

Azimio offers a shaky smile. "Yeah, man. You're my hommie, remember? Through thick and thin and all that. Just don't go expecting hugs or something."

Dave laughs. "Nah, I won't. Like I said, I'm still the same. And I swear I won't sit there and be like, 'Hey, Z, isn't that guy hot?' 'cause that isn't me, and that's just awkward."

"Yeah. Totally," Azimio agrees, shuddering at the thought of having to do that when his sister already does that to him. "Anyway, uh. We're late for class. So. See you later?"

"Yeah. See you, Az."

And oddly enough, Dave feels better about himself. And to think this started off as a relatively not-okay day…

0o0o0

Dave is watching _The Hard Times of RJ Burger_ when his father comes into the room, holding up the house phone. "Kurt just called. But I'm not letting you call him back until you speak to your mother. This is getting ridiculous, David! It's a week before Halloween, and you _still _haven't told her, even after all the times you've seen or spoken to her since you came Out to me this summer!"

Dave winces. Paul is disappointed in him, clearly. With a sigh, Dave gets off of the couch and shuts off the TV. He walks back his dad, grabs the phone, and murmurs, "Fine, I'll call her," and heads into his bedroom.

_After coming out to someone like Azimio, you would think this wouldn't be so hard,_ Dave thinks to himself. He inhales and exhales slowly, his heart starting to pound between his lungs.

He dials his mother's cell phone number in case she's still working late. She's always been a nice woman; a lover of order, cleanliness, and manners. But she's also always had a short fuse, at least as long as Dave can remember, because its that short fuse that triggered the divorce.

His mother answers by the third ring. "Hello? Paul?"

"No. Uh, it's Dave," the teen mumbles, picking at his jeans.

"Oh! Hello, David, sweetie. How has your day been?"

"F-ine," Dave utters, his voice breaking. He clears his throat. "Look, Ma. Um. There's something important I need to tell you. But before you ask, just know that this is something I'm sure of, and that I've tried to avoid for a really long time, but it caught up with me and I can't sit around and pretend any longer."

His mother's tone immediately drops from casual and warm to serious and anxious. "Oh my God, honey, what is it? What's wrong? You sound… are you shaking? Why are you so scared to tell me?"

Dave exhales, and almost laughs. But if he did laugh, he's sure it would sound strangled and bitter. "I'm just a little on edge, is all. I always feel like I have to be careful around you, you know? I don't want… I don't wanna make you mad or disappointed or whatever," he answers quietly, and his eyes are prickling with tears, and he doesn't want to cry while he's on the phone.

"Sweetie, you know you can tell me anything, right? I'm your mother. I… I should be able to handle it, whatever it is. Did you not get accepted into your colleges? Did you fail a class and can't graduate? What is it?" and there is panic in her voice now, genuine worry.

"Mom, it's none of that," Dave sniffs, and he wipes at his eyes before the tears can fall form his lashes. "It's about me." He pauses, and he can hear her holding her breath. "I'm gay, Mom." And before he can stop himself, he's apologiuzing for it. "I'm so sorry, Mom, I really am – I know you wanted grandkids, I know you expected better of me, but I – I'm gay, and he's just so important to me –"

"David, David, honey, please, calm down! It's all right, I promise, it's all right! Here, ah, could you – I'm driving home right now, but I'm going to take a detour and come see you, all right, baby? This isn't… I don't want to talk about this over the phone," she's saying in a frantic, yet gentle, rush. She sounds like she is also on the brink of tears, and all of a sudden, the guilt weighing down on Dave's chest is just that much heavier.

"Okay, Ma. Okay," Dave whispers. "I'll tell Dad. See you soon." And he hangs up, a sob choking him, cutting off in his throat. He hiccups from the trapped air bubble the sob causes, and he wipes at his eyes, but the tears are coming down pretty freely, and he hates feeling so warm and stuffy.

He opens his window, chilling October air _whooshing_ in, and he slowly breathes and tries to calm down. His father enters the room right then.

"Son…" he begins quietly. He places a meaty hand onto Dave's shoulder. "I heard. She's coming, then?"

"Y-yeah," Dave answers. He turns and faces his father. "Why is this so weird? And so hard?"

Paul shakes his head. "I'm not sure, David. I only know that, like she, she isn't going to love you any less. You're our _son. _And you're finally telling the _truth. _And that means a lot to me, and I'm sure it means just as much to her as well."

Sniffing one final time, Dave rubs his face and nods, his tears gone. "Right. Yeah. Thanks, Dad."

Paul Karofsky offers a smile amidst his graying ring of a beard. "You're welcome. Now, let's go wait for my ex downstairs."

Dave smiles a little. "Yeah, okay."

0o0o0

When Dave sees Kurt at school the following day, he glances down at the dirty tile flooring while Kurt turns away from his locker. "David?"

"Can I talk to you?" Dave says, glancing up to slowly meet Kurt's gaze. "Alone, I mean."

Kurt looks at the boy sideways, and then slowly nods in affirmation. "Sure. Where would you like to speak?"

"I don't trust the boys' bathroom. Anyone could come in. But the theatre is usually empty, right? Except when you club is using it and stuff?"

"Yes, of course," Kurt agrees. He looks back into his locker, grabs a book, and then shuts it, twisting the lock to secure it. "This is my study hall, anyway. Just let me tell my teacher, and we can get a pass and talk. What do you have this hour?"

"Free period," Dave murmurs. "They usually don't let me roam the halls or anything, so I sometimes go down to the music room to mess with the piano or guitar, even if I can't really play either one." He walks alongside Kurt and follows him into a classroom, and he recognizes the teacher as the art teacher, but it's odd to see her outside of her element. She hands Kurt a pass, smiles serenely at the jock, and watches them both leave.

In the auditorium, Kurt sets down his messenger bag and books on the stage, hoisting himself up to sit on its edge. Dave has nothing to put down, so he opts to climb up and sit beside Kurt.

"What is it that it couldn't wait or be said on the phone? I called you last night, you know," the counter-tenor says mildly.

Dave hangs his head, looking at the floor. "Yeah, I know. But my dad said I couldn't talk to you until I came Out to my mom, because I've been putting it off for the past few months. And she really should know, since she's my mom and all. I mean, I even told _Azimio _before I told her."

"You told Azimio Adams?" Kurt says. He whistles lowly. "Wow. How did he take it?"

"Okay, I guess. Not like a champ like my mom did last night, though." He smiles a little, glancing up to look Kurt in the eyes, those beautiful aquamarine eyes. "It started off on the phone, but then she drove over to our house, even though she was going to her own home from work. She burst in the doorway – we left it unlocked for her, of course – and she ran up to me and hugged me, with her coat on and everything. She cried, said she was sorry if she ever made me believe that I couldn't tell her, and she stroked my hair and said that she doesn't care if I can't give her grandkids because I can always adopt, and she said she felt awful that she left the family years ago when I couldn't have been struggling with this for so long, blaming herself for not being here to help me through it. It was… kind of incredible, and I didn't expect it at all. I thought she was going to yell at me."

Kurt grins brightly, and he leans over to put an arm briefly around Dave's shoulders before he drops the contact. "That's wonderful, Dave! I'm so happy for you. I had faith in your parents from the beginning, because your dad reminded me a bit like my own father. So I'm glad things worked out, because you needed that sort of support, I can tell."

Dave chuckles lightly, his heart feeling warm and nearly weightless. "It was pretty peculiar, I'll tell you what, though. She kept kissing my cheeks and hair, telling me that I'm still her baby or whatever. At one point, I had to ease her off and remind her that I _am _a seventeen-year-old boy, not a ten-year-old girl. She wound up laughing and eating dinner with us, talking pretty okay toward my dad and being really touchy-feeling with me, grabbing my hand and stuff. I think she felt the need to comfort me, but I didn't mind, not really. It was weird, but the good kind of weird." He looks down. "I… I missed my mom, at least when she used to be like that."

Kurt pats Dave's forearm. "That's great, truly. I'm so glad."

"Makes me think that it wouldn't be so bad to come Out to the school; not because I think they'd all hug me and stuff like my mom, but because some of them might surprise me or not care at all, like mom my surprised me, and like Az doesn't care," Dave says suddenly, and he looks as if for answers into Kurt's face again, and Kurt can't look away.

"…That's how I felt," Kurt says breathlessly. He nods slowly, blinking a few times. "Yes. I mean, if you want to, if you're _ready _to, then do it. But you don't have to, David. This _is _only high school, but I think it would do you some good to, and that's why I kept pressuring you last year. But you've already done what I wanted for you: you told your family, you told a friend besides me and Finn, and you even became comfortable enough with yourself to join Glee Club." He laughs. "And all before Halloween, no less!"

Dave chuckles, too. "Yeah. I'm on a roll." He sighs happily, looking out at all the seats of the room. "I honestly thought this day would never come, at one point. I used to think that I had to just… bottle everything up and keep my secret to myself. But then there was this guy who came yelling after me one day 'cause I pushed him too far, and the next thing I knew, I was letting everything out in one action." He frowns at himself, but glances to his left to see how Kurt is reacting to this. Shockingly, Kurt is smiling. So Dave smiles, too. "In a way… I wanna thank you for that, Kurt. Just for being the badass you are."

Kurt huffs a laugh. "I wouldn't go as far as _badass, _but yes, I know that I certainly tend to be _outgoing,_" he retorts warmly. His eyes search Dave's face, and he leans closer with his palm on the space of ledge between their thighs. His voice goes soft as he says, "In retrospect, thought, I'm glad I did it. It made a lot of bad things happen, but in the long run… It made a lot of good things, like _this_, happen as well."

Dave starts to lean in, and he knows he shouldn't, but Kurt's face is just too welcoming _not _to. He breathes out, "You know, I accidentally let it slip to my mom how important you are to me. She told me that I shouldn't let you slip past my fingers." It's true. His mother said those exact words at dinner the previous night, once she went over what her son said to her over the phone.

Kurt's breath hitches, and his lightly pointed ears seems to tint red. "Did she?" he whispers.

"Yeah," Dave says. And he has one or two false starts, but in no time, he leans in all the way and covers Kurt's hand with his own, his lips brushing delicately over Kurt's smooth lips.

Kurt gives a shuddering breath, and he starts to press his lips fully onto Dave's. But then, all too suddenly, Kurt reels backward, sliding his hand from under Dave's and sandwiching both of his hands between his knees. "You know I can't, David. I can't cheat on Blaine like that."

Dave's face turns stony, and he grinds his teeth, his eyes darting to his right. His fingers curl into a fist on the black-painted wood of the stage. "I know that," he spits out. He sighs languidly, and drops his hands into his lap. "Sorry. I know, I know. That was utterly dumb. 'M sorry. Won't happen again." He pounds one hand into the stage before getting off of it, standing and shoving his hands into his jean pockets. He starts to walk away, and behind him, he's sure that Kurt is just staring.

He isn't wrong.

When Dave turns back around to ask something, Kurt is standing in front of the stage, his fingers hovering over his lips, and he looks like he's torn over an inner dilemma. Dave's heart twists, feeling as though it's severing itself from his veins and arteries in the center of his chest, everything getting tangled and broken. He inhales shakily. "…Kurt?"

"Yes?" Kurt croaks. He gathers up his possessions into his arms messily, which is very unlike the Kurt Hummel that Dave normally knows.

He takes a few steps back toward the boy. "Wait, are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh. Yeah. Fine. I just… you leave me with a lot to think about, do you know that?" Kurt tries to joke, but his smile falters, and he sighs. "You look like you wanted to ask something," he says as he changed the topic and starts to pace toward Dave to meet up with him on the stairs alongside the stadium-like rows of seats.

"I did," Dave murmurs, "But I'll save it for another time. I need to leave you be." And with that, he leaves the auditorium, not even giving the shorter boy the chance to catch up with him.

He had been about to ask, 'Could you at least tell me if you like me at all?' or even, 'Did you at least _want _me to kiss you think time?' but he held off on both, because clearly Kurt is too distraught to gather his books and leave, let along answer two questions he might be currently asking himself.

So Dave leaves it at that, and heads early for his locker to grab his stuff for his next class.

He doesn't plan on seeing Kurt for the rest of the day; he needs to give the boy his space. But he won't ignore him like before; if Kurt calls tonight or something, Dave plans on answering.


	5. Part 5

**A/N: IT SEEMS THAT EVEN IN MY FLUFF PIECES, THERE IS DRAMA/ANGST. FML.  
><strong>

**Enjoy Blaine this chapter. He is very understanding about things. :D**

* * *

><p>"So, this week, I want you all to partner up; it's tine for another duets competition, since it worked pretty well last year! Volunteers? Or do I have to make you all draw names from a hat again?" Mr. Schuester muses to the group.<p>

"Shouldn't we draw names from a vest? You have a lot of those," Brittany mumbles, and only Santana snickers a laugh.

Schuester rolls his eyes. "I'd rather not. Some of you love to complain when you get assigned to someone. So choose, please? When write yours and your partner's names on the board when you're ready, so that I can record them all down. I want your song choices by tomorrow, and your performances will be on Friday!"

A variety of "Sure thing, Mr. Schue," rings throughout the choir room, and excited voices rise and fall with giggles and high-fives as boys, girls, and dating couples alike join together to sing.

Naturally, among them, Finn and Rachel are a pair; Sam and Mercedes are another; Puck and Artie want to sing together because they harmonize well, Mike and Tina, Santana and Brittany, and then there's odd groups like Lauren with a junior friend of hers, and Quinn selecting a sophomore boy who sings pretty well.

And Kurt walks up to Dave and says, "We are singing together; no ifs, ands, or buts about it."

And Dave gives a shrug. "Fine."

And cue some of the drama already rolling in like thunderclouds in the distance by the wind.

0o0o0

When Kurt brings Dave home that afternoon, Burt is home early and frying burgers in a pan on the stove. "Hope you're all hungry, because with a house full of three teenage boys plus Rachel, there is going to be plenty of food going around."

"Don't worry, I'll eat for Kurt since he takes, like, five low-carb bites and doesn't touch anything else," Dave smirks, greeting Mr. Hummel and then heading upstairs for Kurt's room. Kurt smacks him for the remark, muttering something about not being on so strict a diet that he can't enjoy a hamburger.

"Remember the rules, Kurt! Gay friends mean that the door stays open!" Burt teases, but he also kind of means it.

Halfway up the stairs, Dave catches Kurt rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Do you see what I live with? What does Protective Papa Bear think I'm going to do, something obscenely sexual with you while Finn and Rachel are in the other room and he's right downstairs? Unlikely," Kurt remarks sourly.

Dave acts like he isn't blushing at the possible appeal in the thought that gives him a lurch of heat in his lower abdomen. He shakes it off like all teenage hormone-related things, and enters Kurt's bedroom.

It's always the same: perfectly clean, the bed always made, and everything cheerful and beautifully colored. Coordinated. Basically, everything Dave's bedroom isn't.

Kurt shuffles over to his iHome, where he slips his iPhone and checks the time on the clock display. "We have about fifteen minutes until dinner, by the smell of it. And then, afterward, about two or three hours to compile a song for the pair of us to sing without too much disagreement."

Dave snorts, taking a seat on the edge of Kurt's bed. "Yeah, 'cause if you pick something from a musical, chances are I won't want to sing it 'cause it'll be too weird and unfamiliar."

Kurt smiles. "Not entirely. I did want to do 'I'll Cover You' from _Rent_ because it is honestly one of my favorite songs besides anything _Wicked_-related, but I have another idea. Have you ever seen _Sweeney Todd?_ The one directed by Tim Burton, with Johnny Depp as lead?"

"Oh. Yeah, of course. Surprisingly, my mom and I saw it together in theatres. I didn't know it was a musical – I thought it was just about killing and stuff – and my mom likes horror because they were always her favorite sleepover movies as a teenager, she says, so we went and saw it the second week it was out. When they started singing in the beginning on the boat, I was a little bored at first, but then the story kicked in and I really liked it. Why? Did you want to sing something from there?" Dave proposes, turning in his seat as Kurt moves about the room, a remote in his hand.

He presses 'play.' Smiling, Kurt says, "Yes, if that's all right with you. I thought 'A Little Priest' would be a comical duet for us, especially because I love singing all of Mrs. Lovett's songs to myself."

Dave laughs. "Wait, isn't that the song where they talk about how different types people would taste after they killed the fake Italian dude?" He claps his hands together, still laughing. "Awesome! I totally don't mind singing that, then. That's badass."

"Fabulous!" Kurt says cheerfully. "Then we don't have to argue and surf through countless duets! We can even spend the remainder of the evening practicing, to get an upper hand on at least Finn and Rachel, since Rachel has to go home after supper." He brings up a hand to his mouth, stabilizing it on an arm across his chest, and nibbles on a nail. "Hmm. I just hope Schuester lets us sing it. It isn't too inappropriate for school, do you think?" he wonders a she comes to sit beside his friend on the bed, the chosen song playing in the background.

The jock gives a noncommittal shrug/nod. "Ehh, whatever. Who cares? If we have to pick another on, we will. Look how fast we did this one, right? Besides, there are plenty of duets in the world, and plenty of songs that you could turn into a duet just by giving one verse to one person, one verse to the other, and then singing the chorus together."

"For someone who claims not to know show choir or music that well, you're good at this," Kurt teases, narrows his eyes at Dave as if saying, ' I see through your disguise, Karofsky.'

Dave shrugs again. "'S just common sense." He looks to Kurt, and then points a thumb in the direction of the iHome playing music over its speakers. "So, which _Sweeney_ song is your favorite?"

"'Worse Pies in London,' of course. What about you? –Or do you not even know the titles of the songs?" Kurt adds, grinning knowingly.

"I don't know the titles, but my favorite when I saw the music was the one where Sweeney was, like, going crazy. He hallucinated being in the street and talking to people, but really he was just talking to Mrs. Lovett, and he said something about everyone deserving to die."

"Oh! That's 'Epiphany,'" Kurt supplies helpfully. "That's a good one. I bet you could sing it perfectly."

"If I knew the words," Dave returns, frowning. "I really don't know any of the words to any of the songs. I liked the movie and all, but not enough to re-watch it a few times, and you know me from back then; I wouldn't download a soundtrack to a musical if you held an axe above my head."

Kurt sputters a laugh, and the vibrations from his spasms are felt when he bumps legs with Dave. Dave shifts over, leaning away as Kurt comes back to himself. "True enough," he agrees. He sighs contentedly. "Gaga, we have almost nothing in common, David. It's astounding and odd that we act the way we do around one another."

"Yeah, it kind of is. I mean, I like sports and video games and I never care what I eat, and you like musicals and fashion and making sure everything adds up to your calorie count of the day. But… we both like to sing and dance. One of us is just more open about it than the other," Dave nods, pointing the things out on his fingers, listing them. It's odd, too, just being like this, acting so casually with Kurt; Dave isn't even like this with his other friends. He just feels… so _comfortable._

(Feeling 'safe' in the Hummel-Hudson home is brought to Dave's attention again.)

"We also bat for the same team, as they say," Kurt tacks onto the list casually, as if it means nothing.

The jock tenses up. "…Yeah, there's that, too," he mumbles quietly. Clearing his throat, he stands up and heads for the door. "Should we go see if your dad's done cooking? We could probably help set the table. C'mon."

Kurt protests for a second, "But Dav–" and then he cuts himself off, sighing in frustration. "_Men, _honestly."

0o0o0

Schuester winds up letting them sing the song because, he says, "Worse songs have been sung on Glee Club, and besides, there aren't any swears in that one, so you're in the clear there."

Everyone has magnificent songs. Santana and Brittany do a particularly impressive version of 'Two Is Better Than One,' an acoustic version based off of the one by Boys Like Girls and Taylor Swift. But Kurt's personal favorite is the one Puck and Artie sing, their completely redone, duet-ified version of 'Heartbeat' by the British band Scouting For Girls.

So on Friday, when all of these are being done, Dave gets a little nervous. Everyone sounds epic, even the newbies sound pretty good, and why he and Kurt wound up being last he has no clue, but he doesn't like it one bit, because the only thing worse than getting shown up by someone better than you who comes afterward is sounding totally lame being after someone who sounded awesome. (At least in Dave's personal opinion.)

The two boys get up in front of the class and begin their cut-down version of the song.

Kurt, of course, is the one to kick it off.

"_Take, for instance, Mrs. Mooney and her pie shop!  
>Bus'ness never better using only pussycats and toast!<br>Now a pussy's good for maybe six or seven at the most!  
>And I'm sure they can't compare as far as taste!"<em>

And then Dave joins in, and the two of them overlap one another, and throughout the whole thing, they are playing a sort of cat-and-mouse dance around one another, not touching, and doing things like vaguely step around the piano to avoid contact and the like, all to mimic the characters and, yes, help keep Dave somewhat secret in sexual orientation, because only the seniors of the Glee Club know his secret, not any of the younger ones who joined this year.

_"Mrs. Lovett, what a charming notion –"_

_"Well, it does seem a waste..."_

_"Eminently practical, and yet appropriate as always!"_

_"Think about it..."_

_"Mrs. Lovett, how I've lived without you all these years, I'll never know! How delectable! Also undetectable!"_

_"Lots of other gentlemen'll soon be comin' for a shave, won't they? Think of all those pies!"_

_"How choice! How rare!"_ And here is where the stepping begins, the start of the 'round and 'round the room chase between the two, Kurt taking the lead, but Dave singing, _"For what's the sound of the world out there?"_

_"What, Mr. Todd? What, Mr. Todd? What is that sound?"_

David grins devilishly, perfectly in-character for Todd. _"Those crunching noises pervading the air!"_

Kurt doesn't even have to feign his cheerful demeanor; this is too much fun not to enjoy it. _"Yes, Mr. Todd! Yes, Mr. Todd! Yes, all around!"_

_"It's man devouring man, my dear!"_ Dave says, although he oddly doesn't feel half as embarrassed to call Kurt 'my dear' as he normally would. Huh, must be the atmosphere in here with everyone laughing along with them, enjoying the performance.

Together, the two boys sing as they meet in the middle for a moment, side by side, arms out in a questioning manner, _"Then who are we to deny it in here?"_ Kurt steps around and drops his weight onto Mr. Schue's shoulders, looking smug.

Dave looks down at the teacher and points at him, raising a perfectly arches brow and asking skeptically, _"What is that?"_

Kurt grins. Referring to Schue, he sings, _"It's priest. Have a little priest."_

_"Is it really good?"_ Dave wonders in song, trying not to laugh out loud. _"Sir, it's too good, at least! Then again, they don't commit sins of the flesh, so it's pretty fresh,"_ Kurt nods.

_"Awful lot of fat,"_ Dave remarks, poking the teacher's cheek, and Schue isn't offended at all; instead, he's keeling over with laughter at the situation.

But still the boys carry on without a hitch, Kurt retorting, _"Only where it sat."_

_"Haven't you got poet, or something like that?"_

Kurt shakes his head and wags a finger in playful reprimand._ "No, y'see, the trouble with poet is 'ow do you know it's deceased? Try the priest!"_ Kurt pauses to walk around Dave and some of the other chairs to tap Quinn on the shoulder, putting her on display this time. _"Lawyer is rather nice."_

Dave contains himself from snickering at Quinn's offended facial expression by singing in an almost bored tone,_ "If it's for a price."_

_"Order something else, though, to follow, since no one should swallow it twice!"_ Kurt sings gleefully, moving around to someone else on the risers.

_"Anything that's lean?"_ Dave wants to know, still standing at the front of the classroom, his arms folded over his chest and one foot bent at the knee while the other supports most of his weight.

The male soprano does a little twirl and sits in Puck's lap, gesturing to the Mohawked teen as he flexes his biceps, Kurt singing, _"Well, then, if you're British and loyal, you might enjoy Royal Marine!"_ Kurt shrugs, standing up again gracefully,_ "Anyway, it's clean. Though of course, it tastes of wherever it's been!"_ And he winks, and everyone in the choir does a knowing 'ooooh!' at the sexual implication of the known stud's track record.

Dave takes a few steps closer to the group and points to Mike. _"Is that squire, on the fire?"_

_"Mercy no, sir, look closer, you'll notice it's grocer!"_ Kurt counters, amused because he knows why Dave pointed to Mike for this part.

_"Looks thicker, more like vicar!"_ Dave sings his remark, and Mike flexes his own arms mockingly.

_"No, it has to be grocer – It's **green**!"_ Kurt replies in song, and he rugs upward on mike's bright lime green shirt (and this would be _why_) before doing another twirl out of the way again.

They meet in the center again, and this time, they walk in a circle like yin and yan, singing back and forth around their shortcut to the ending, Dave leading again, _"Have charity towards the world, my pet!" "Yes, yes, I know, my love!"_

_"We'll take the customers that we can get!"_ Dave continues.

_"High-born and low, my love!"_(And Dave shoves down the blissful feeling of hearing Kurt call him 'my love,' even if it's only for the song.)

And together, finally, they finish: _"We'll not discriminate great from small! No, we'll serve anyone, meaning anyone… And to anyone at all!"_

And the final three notes play, and then it's only an eruption of laughter and cheers and clapping, and Dave and Kurt bow respectively, turning to face one another, and then the crowd.

They win the competition by a landslide because half of the club voted for them, and the rest voted for themselves, which only gave them two points each.

And instead of a dinner to Breadstix, this was just a gift certificate to the Lima Bean, but it doesn't matter, because Kurt loves coffee, and Dave is happy to give up his gift certificate to the other boy. In private, of course; don't want anyone figuring him out.

(Not that half of them haven't already. Santana guessed last year about the way Dave feels toward Kurt, and really, it isn't that hard to pick up on once the signs are read as clearly as a paperback novel.)

0o0o0

Dave hears the conversation before he comes up to the door.

It's muffled, but Kurt's voice cuts through the siding of the house and the glass of the windows, and it's impossible not to understand what's going on.

"How can you say that, Blaine? Are you out of your mind? Why would I do that to you? You know I'm not like that! I'm not a cheater!"

Dave swallows. He was supposed to hang out with Kurt after school today to go get the coffee they essentially won last week. Today is Thursday, just a regular day of the week, and it's a week from Thanksgiving. October came and gone, and so did Sectionals. They won, naturally, and are going onto Regionals in the spring, and hopefully, Nationals again before they graduate. November is cold on Dave's back, and he can't help but knock on the door.

Finn answers it, saying, "Dude, you shouldn't be here right now. Blaine came over for a 'surprise' visit, and he was acting weird, and Kurt called him out on it, and –"

"Finn? Who is it at the door?" comes Kurt's voice, upset and hushed.

"Uh… No one, Kurt!" Finn yells back. He turns to Dave again and has his regular confused-Finn-frown. "Seriously, dude," he says in a normal tone, "Come back later, or call Kurt tonight or something. This is bad. It's like… their first real lover's Quirrell or something."

"…'Quarrel,' Finn. Quirrell was a professor at Hogwarts in the first _Harry Potter_," Dave retorts with a deadpan expression and tone.

"Er, right. Anyway, you should –" and then Finn squeaks as he's yanked backward, out of the way of the front door. "Too late," comes his voice from somewhere Dave can't see. Finn pops up again behind the pissed person who replaced him in the doorway, and he looks apologetic as he scampers off.

Kurt's standing in Finn's place, and Blaine is coming after him. "Who is – HIM!" Blaine is saying, the last word too loud, making Dave wince.

"Oh… We were supposed to get coffee today, weren't we?" Kurt murmurs, and behind him, his boyfriend looks wounded.

"Let him inside, Kurt," Blaine sighs, and turns and starts walking back to where he emerged from. The living room, Dave guesses from the direction from what he knows of the layout of the house.

Kurt looks conflicted, but he nods his head and steps aside. "Come in, David. It's cold out there."

Dave shivers on cue and steps inside. The house is warm, but the air is thick with problems Dave doesn't even want to know about, but figures he'll soon discover anyhow.

Finn has retreated to his bedroom, Dave surmises as he enters the living room and removes his coat. The two parents are still at work, naturally, and that's good, because this might get messy.

"Won't you have a seat?" Blaine is the first to say, and Dave feels something unsettling jar his stomach. He obeys, and watches as the other two take their own seats on two separate pieces of furniture. "Let me begin. As I'm sure you might have heard from the ever-helpful Finn Hudson," Blaine begins softly, and he looks tired and not in the mood for confrontation such as this, "Kurt and I were… arguing."

Kurt snorts. "More like fighting, Blaine. This is a fight, because we can't even agree to disagree this time."

Blaine goes on as if Kurt hadn't spoken. Dave looks and feels lost and small, like a rodent in the middle of unknown territory. "And we were arguing about his closeness with you, as a matter of fact. And, you also being homosexual and coincidentally the first person Kurt kissed, I have the awful notion that the two of you have been more than friendly to one another lately. And I just…" Blaine pauses, clearly about to cry. "I just wanted to know if it was true."

Kurt sighs. "I tried to tell him, Dave, that it isn't, and that it's nothing. Can you please reassure him so we can be done here?"

"Nothing happened, Blaine," Dave says slowly, honestly. "I tried to kiss him once – again – whatever, but he pushed me away, saying he didn't want to cheat on you. He cares about you, Blaine, and I'll always be second to you. Or even further down the list, 'cause I'm pretty sure Kurt only feels platonically toward me, so you can cool your jets, because even if I wish it were different, Kurt and I are only friends."

Blaine nods slowly. "Right. Yes. I should have known, before jumping to conclusions. I apologize to both of you. I'm not normally the jealous type, even; I only… I wonder, that's all."

"Wonder about what?" Kurt whispers, and he, too, is on the brink of tears. It's so intimate between them that Dave has to look away, but he can't close his ears to what he hears.

Blaine hesitates. Then, finally, he murmurs quietly, "I wonder if you aren't falling in love with him, Kurt. After all, opposites attract, don't they?" And he's smiling sadly as he adds, "Besides, you like jocks, and I am clearly not a jock."

"What? B-Blaine… Come on, don't be like this," Kurt responds, and the tears are so evident in his thick tone that Dave stands up.

"You two should go out for coffee to cheer yourselves up. You can use my certificate, Blaine. Anyway, Finn was right, I shouldn't be here right now. See you guys later," Dave utters quickly, and all at once, he's halfway to the front door.

"…D-Dave? Wait!" Kurt cries out, standing and rushing after the tallest boy.

In the living room, Blaine stands slowly and follows them. He knows what he's seeing, and he respects it. After all, it's his fault for not getting with Kurt sooner, leading the poor boy on while he chased after Jeremiah and even Rachel for a spell, and then only realized his feelings when it was too late, and worse yet, at a time of a small creatures death. How did he expect this to be what it has been, and last for as many months as it had?

– And it doesn't help that he's at Dalton, either; he knows all too well that distance doesn't make the heart grow fonder unless you're married. And when you're not, it just makes you forget about whom you're not always with. (That's how it works for teenagers, anyhow.)

At the door, Dave is talking Kurt into going to get coffee with Blaine instead to calm them down and pick them up, and Kurt is arguing that this is fine, just a bump in the road, and that the two of them can still get coffee together.

Still respectfully, Blaine steps between them, his coat draped over his arm. "Please, go to coffee like you planned. I'll be fine. And, Kurt? Please, don't let me hold you back. If you really want David, then have him. I'm not going to stop you when I saw this coming months ago." He smiles warmly, leans over to give Kurt a peck on the temple, and then touches his hair as he pulls away. "Whatever makes you happy, Kurt."

Kurt gapes for a moment, tears trickling like rain on a windowpane as he watches Blaine go outside, headed for his car parked on the side of the road.

"Blaine…" Kurt whispers, his eyes following Blaine's form down the path. And then his eyes – so very green when he cries, so unlike the blue of his cheerful smiles – pan over to Dave in front of him. "Did he just dump me?"

"I think he left that up to you," Dave answers softly. He looks down at his own hands in his pockets, and then he looks back to Kurt, who is breaking down in front of him, eyes closed, sobs being exhaled in broken pieces, his head leaning forward and his shoulders hunching. His fists are clenched at his side, and Dave's breath catches in his throat at the devastating sight.

Without much thought, as if it were second nature to him, Dave allows Kurt to press his forehead against Dave's chest, and Dave brings his arms around the smaller boy's frame as it wracks with shuddering breaths and a monsoon of tears.

"Shh, shh, shh," Dave sooths, and the awkwardness has fallen away, and now all he cares about is getting Kurt to smile again, or at least cease crying. "It's all right. We'll figure this out. This is just bad timing, and –"

"Y-you don't under_stand, _Day-vid," Kurt mumbles wetly, his hands coming up to grip the front of Dave's jacket and cling to it as he shakes his head, forehead rubbing against Dave's sturdy warmth. He chokes on his words, hiccupping lightly. He sniffles loudly, and then swallows with a small, 'nguhh.' He looks up into Dave's face. "He's right. I was lying to preserve my relationship with him because part of me still loves him, but Blaine… he was _right on the money. _I love you, David. I don't know how it came to this when a year ago I despised you, but there it is. I love you."

Kurt sighs and steps back, shrinking in on himself. He looks so small, and all Dave can do is stare in disbelief. (He _did _hear correctly, didn't he? Kurt _loves _him?)

Kurt shakes his head and hugs himself. "Go home, Dave. This is a cluster-fuck, and we all need to just… get our feelings in order," he tells the tanner boy, but Dave can tell even in this instant where he's in shock that Kurt is saying this more to himself than to the footballer.

"I-I… Yeah, all right. But Kurt, if you – If you need to talk to anyone, you have my number, remember? And…" He fights with himself for a second, clenching his hands into his jeans, and then tipping forward to kiss Kurt on the cheek tenderly, "Remember that those feelings you mentioned… they aren't one-sided, okay? But… you probably already knew that." He ducks his head. "See ya."

And with that, Dave turns and leaves the oddest visit he ever encountered at the Hummel-Hudson home.


	6. Part 6

**A/N: Sorry, guys, this chapter is shorter than the rest. And depending on how the next chapter goes when I write it, part 7 might be the last. But we'll see. ;D**

* * *

><p>Kurt usually knows what he wants. It's Dave who doesn't always know. But it seems like, this time around, it's the opposite.<p>

Dave sighs and picks up his Xbox controller, but when he starts up _Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood_, he doesn't really feel like being Ezio or killing people all of a sudden. So he shuts off the game console and flops backward into his bed. He hums the beginnings of a song to himself, and then stops short when he realizes that it's 'A Little Priest.'

On Friday at school, Kurt looks like he's in a bit of a daze, too into his own thoughts to bother much with school outside of going through the motions. He's dressed in less than his best, but even less than his best is incredible.

Dave p0urposely walks up to Kurt at lunch and sits across from him. "How are you holding up today?" he asks as casually as he can while still sounding concerned.

"I talked to Blaine on the phone last night after you went home," Kurt replies quietly. He picks at his food but doesn't raise any of it to his lips. He looks… not miserable, but not his usual perky self, either. Kurt actually seems like he's caught in the tides, drifting back and forth between two emotions like the ocean water does between shore and sky.

"What'd he say?" Dave asks, and he notices that Mercedes and Rachel are coming over to sit beside Kurt, their smiles falling as soon as they reach the table.

"Hey, you two," Rachel being gently, a small trying-to-lift-your-spirits smile in her eyes. She tries to bring it to her mouth as well, but it doesn't seem to be connecting. She sits on one side of Kurt, and Mercedes sits on the other. Sam comes over and sits across from the curvy diva by taking the spot on Dave's left. "What's going on?"

"Yeah, Kurtie-baby, you need to 'fess up. What's eating at you?" Mercedes chimes in, bringing a tater tot with ketchup to her mouth and popping it in.

"You mean the sides the microscopic dust mites on my clothing and skin?" Kurt retorts airily, still looking down at his plastic fork prodding his salad. He shrugs. "Nothing. Boy troubles. You know, because I can't seem to avoid them, even when I want to."

"Oh, no. What's happening with Blainey-boo?" Rachel pouts, nudging Kurt. She gasps suddenly. "He's not jealous that you sang a duet with Dave, is he?"

"What? No, not that," Kurt scoffs. He shakes his head. "Only you would think someone would be jealous of someone else because of _music._"

"Are you kidding me? It happens all the time in Glee Club. I noticed this last year," Sam offers, his mouth half-full of hot dog. He swallows, and then points to his tater tots. "Hey, I bet I can give myself troll-teeth with these if I place 'em right in my mouth. Anyone wanna see?"

"Thanks for that pleasing mental image, Sam, but I think we're good," Kurt answers sarcastically, but a smile is beginning to play on his lips again. "Your talents and impressions aside, because I do appreciate you trying to take my mind off of this, I do need to talk it out with someone."

"Oh. Okay, man. I just wanted to help cheer you up," Sam says, picking up a tot and putting it in his mouth. He looks to Mercedes and asks, "You want half of these? I can never eat them all, anyway."

"Hell yeah I do!" Mercedes grins, taking a handful.

Kurt blinks, frowning a little, and looks away, toward Rachel again. (Between them all, Dave feels a little out-of-place, but he sticks around because it would be kinda rude to just up and leave now.) "Anyway," Kurt laments with a sigh, "Blaine and I are officially broken up."

Rachel and Mercedes gasp simultaneously. "What!" they say in unison, expect in different tones; Rachel's more a high tone of flustered shock, and Mercedes' more a low tone of sassy disbelief.

"I know, I know," Kurt replies dramatically, "It's impossible for your gay fangirls' minds to comprehend that the only boy/boy couple you know personally is capable of having problems enough to part, just like any other couple. Just because 'gay can mean 'happy' doesn't mean the first relationship I get into will be so flawlessly chipper that it won't eventually end."

"Well, yes; I mean, you have a point, Kurt, but… You and Blaine _did _seem perfect together, like two princes finding love. It _is _hard to believe you two would ever drift apart when you have so much in common and love each other so dearly," Rachel answers sincerely, looking intently focused on Kurt, and Dave is pretty sure she forgot that the two jocks at the other side of the table are even there.

Right on cue, Sam turns to Dave and asks, "Want to hear my Yoda impression?"

Dave smirks a little. "Not right now, dude. I don't want Kurt to get pissed at us for thinking we don't care."

"Oh, right. Yeah. Sorry, I just… don't like couple drama, no matter whose it is. I actually don't like it the most when it involves me, which is why it took 'Cedes and I so long to actually tell people we're dating," Sam puts in, but it's overshadowed by Kurt's own little ramble.

In a rush, Kurt spills the beans. It's not the entire story – and Dave _knows _the entire story – but it's close enough that it makes Dave fidget in his seat at the cafeteria table. Outside, Dave notices when he turns his head to scratch his hairline and purposely adverts his gaze, it's snowing. The first snow of the season, and it looks nippy and flaky.

"Lately, Blaine and I have been falling into too much of a pattern. And we've been drifting a little, reverting back to our easygoing friendship instead of our tight-knit romance. Less kissing, less holding, more of the casual touching again. And I was the one who started it, and Blaine – being the considerate guy he is – played along, because he always respects my space and wants and needs."

Mercedes eyes Kurt, but it's Rachel who speaks first. "And so… did he call you out on your behavior?"

He sighs, but he's nodding. "Yes, sadly. He guessed one day if that is all because I've been getting closer to someone else, and that I might be… might be falling in love with someone else who _contrasts _me more and keeps things 'more interesting for me,' according to Blaine. He thought that I was getting bored of him being the exact same as me all the time."

"Were you?" Mercedes prods gently, laying her hand on his forearm near her.

Kurt makes a face. "I'm not sure. Perhaps I was? I mean, it's true that I like being around people I disagree with sometimes – you and Rachel and somewhat proof of that, Rachel especially – and the differences between Finn and I is one of the reasons why I had a crush on him a couple years ago." His eyes fall back to his untouched salad. He rolls a cherry tomato around. "But I don't know, is being the near-opposite as someone and getting along well with them anyway really a good reason to fall in love? And is it possible, even though I care about Blaine a great deal?"

"It totally is," Rachel answers, a hint of bitterness in her tone. "I mean. Well. Just look at Finn when it came to Quinn versus me last year. That's a prime example."

"Yes, but I'm not a cheater," Kurt says sharply. "No offense to Quinn, and I know Finn wasn't dating you at the time, but still. I wish she would have considered Sam's feelings." He blinks, looking ashamed. His eyes pan to Sam. "Oh! Shoot. Sorry, Sam. I almost forgot you were sitting right there."

The blond shrugs, running a hand through his shortened, spiked hair that he's had since he came back to school. "Nah, it's cool, Kurt. I'm over that. And I think Quinn didn't break up with me at first _because _she cared, as twisted as that sounds. Whatever."

"Oh. Good, then," Kurt returns a hair awkwardly. He coughs into his slim-fingered hand and shakes his head. "Back on point, I just want to say that, unfortunately, the dilemma here is that I'm more upset _for _Blaine than I am _about _him. Is that wrong?"

"No, of course it isn't," Rachel assures firmly. "That shows that you care about him, and that your break-up was the right choice for the both of you in the long run. But… you are still friends, though, right?"

"Oh, definitely!" Kurt replies hastily, looking almost insulted that she doubts they would be. "Blaine and I work best as friends, I suppose, and besides, I still love him. I guess, though, it's more the platonic love, like the sort I feel for you two," he says, giving Rachel and Mercedes a one-armed hug as he leans over the table, bringing them close. "Speaking of which, thanks for listening."

As he releases them, Mercedes says, "No prob, homeboy," at the same time that Rachel murmurs, "Sure thing, Kurt!"

Kurt chuckles at thing and grasps their hands. "You two are the best gal pals any gay guy could have."

"We know," they say, one again at the same time, and they laugh at that for a while.

But then the curvy diva sandwiches her full, glossy lips together and frowns slightly. "But, Kurt… This new guys you like. I want to know: who is he? And is he gay? Because we both know your disasters with straight boys."

Dave tenses. He looks to Kurt, who looks at him briefly, and then he

Kurt smiles a little. "No, I am well aware of my mistakes, and I intend to never make them again. So yes, I assure you, he's gay."

"But who is he?" Rachel pipes up around a sip of her water bottle. (Dave prepares to move.) "Because they only other homosexual that I know is…" And she locks gazes with Dave, who's halfway out of his seat. "Dave!"

Dave flinches, and Sam looks at him with raises eyebrows, while Mercedes looks at him narrow-eyed and Rachel seems surprised, pleasantly so. She even starts to giggle.

"Ohh, the complexity of it all," Rachel whispers excitedly, and hides her shit-eating grin behind her hand. "But I'm just glad things have changed, or else I would be horribly offended by this right now."

Kurt goes pink from the ears to the cheeks to across the bridge of his nose, everything flaring up into an obvious blush. "N-no, that's not –"

"Oh my _God!_ – Kurt, honey, as much as I love you, you are terrible with lying, and besides, your face is a dead giveaway," Mercedes squeaks, and across from her, Sam is snickering.

"I don't know why this is so funny, but it is," Sam utters under his breath, and then laughs louder. "Just… really? You two? And with so much drama? It's so weird, but so funny!"

"Sam, do you want your lips to swell another side larger? I swear on my mother's death I will come over there and bop you one in the mouth," Kurt growls, but he isn't very intimidating when he's blushing furiously and about to crack up with nervous laughter.

Dave is back in his seat and fidgeting awkwardly. "Really, guys, can we, like, not talk about this? Or mention it to anyone? It's not… I mean, Kurt and I aren't going to start _dating _or anything," he mumbles, feeling Kurt's anger and about to use The Fury on all of them if they don't stop laughing at the two hopeless gay boys.

"Okay, okay, sorry," Sam is the first to say, shaking his head to cease his smile. "Really sorry."

"Yeah, I promise we won't say anything, it's just… You know, I think it's the irony of it all? Or something like that?" Rachel contributes to the conversation, settling down herself.

Mercedes, meanwhile, is shaking her head and _mm-mm-mm_-ing. "Boy, this is all kinds of screwed up," she says, addressing Kurt. She turns and looks at him. "How'd you expect to hide this from us? And Karofsky, you should've known it was gonna come to this. I respect you're guts in coming Out to the seniors of the Glee Club before, and I respect your wish to stay in the closet and stuff, but _honey, _if you like my boo Kurt _at all, _you'll know that this is inevitable and you're gonna have to deal with it. The laughter, the exposure, and all that it implies."

"Why should I have to?" Dave retorts defensively. "You're not the dictator of my life. I can choose what I want, and right now, I choose this to stay between us. You two shouldn't have figured it out anyway, 'cause it's kind of private, you know?"

Mercedes smirks. "Oh, I'm sure we know how _private _it is…"

"'Cedes!" Sam and Kurt warn in unison, both with surprised expressions. Sam goes on, "Baby, that's probably not even true the way you're putting it…"

"Yes. I don't appreciate the innuendo when David and I haven't done a single thing," Kurt utters coldly.

"Sorry, boo," Mercedes apologizes with a touch to his shoulder, rubbing it. "You know me: I can't help my sassy mouth sometimes."

"I'm outta here," Dave grumbles, getting up and this time, planning on leaving.

"Ah, Dave, wait!" Rachel squeaks, spinning out of her seat and catching up to him with a bounce in her step. She grabs hold of his arm and looks up at him pleadingly. "I know you're a little embarrassed right now –"

"A _little? _Try a whole freaking _lot,"_ Dave interjects.

Rachel clears her throat highly. "Still, I want you to sit with us. And talk to us. And –"

"What, tell you how I _feel?_" Dave snarls. Rachel backs up a step, releasing him, her brown eyes wide. He shakes his head, and then corrects himself. "Sorry. I didn't mean to use that tone," he murmurs softly. "I just…" He looks at Kurt, who's watching him intently. His gaze meets Rachel's again, and he whispers, "I really love him, Rachel. I want to do this right. And rushing into a relationship after he just got out of one while I'm still not Out to the school? That isn't _right."_

Rachel peers up at him with new eyes, her expression tender. "Wow, David. That is honestly something I didn't expect to hear from you, because I still sometimes think of you as the bully," she utters, and then smiles welcomingly. She leads him back to the table and sits down next to him. "I know who I want to sing with next!"

"Oh, dear _Lord_. Someone spare me," Dave groans, dropping his face into his palm.

Rachel giggles, amused, and when Dave glances up again, Kurt is beaming at him.

And, for once, Dave doesn't care who's watching. He beams right back, ignoring everyone else at the table – Sam and Mercedes chatting, Rachel talking loudly beside him – and the entire lunchroom. He just focuses on Kurt, and when Kurt winks at him, Dave grins even broader.


	7. Part 7

**A/N: Oops! I totally didn't mean for it to end this suddenly, but when I started to write, this is what came out, and I couldn't stand to change it, and I couldn't think what to add, so here it is! Oh well, haha.**

**Thank you all so much for your support! :D**

* * *

><p>"Dave?" Kurt brings up in his soft-toned voice, the pitch a little high with nerves.<p>

"Hmm?" the footballer hums in reply, keeping his eyes closed. He's content right where he is, Kurt's shoulder and part of his back leaning up against the side of Dave's chest, his arm around the smaller boy's other shoulder, dangling down to lace fingers with Kurt's same hand.

"Do you know what tomorrow is?"

"No, what?" Dave wonders, feeling a bit of panic in his chest. "Did I forget something?"

Kurt laughs. "No, probably not. It's just a day I remember."

"Mm."

"It's a month since the day I first told you that I love you," Kurt whispers thoughtfully. "It took me months to say it to Blaine, and I even hesitated because he said it first when I hadn't expected it. But with you… I said it first. And I said it _before _we started dating," Kurt notes idly, and he sounds nearly like he's somewhere else.

Dave opens his eyes and nods briefly. "Yeah. Weird. It feels like so long ago, and now things are… different."

"New Years is coming up. Have any resolutions?" Kurt asks, ignoring the TV show playing in front of them.

"Um… survive second semester with being Out? I only had, like, a week before Winter Break to see what it was like, so…" Dave shrugs. "I dunno. Should be interesting. How much you wanna bet I'll get a few slushies to the face? I already got two this year for being in Glee Club."

Kurt laughs quietly. "Hmm, yes, I expect you'll be covered in dye and sugary water soon enough. But it won't be that bad. It's only a semester, and I'll be there, anyway, to clean you up in the bathroom and have an extra shirt for you in my locker. Preferably a more stylish one."

"Gonna start buying my clothes now, Fancy?" Dave muses with a raised catlike eyebrow. "Control what I wear? How domestic of you, and so soon, too. Don't rush."

Kurt grins devilishly. "I might go that far. I tend to take things to the nth degree too soon anyhow." He laughs. "But really, I never had to shop for Blaine because he was naturally as fabulous as I am and he never got slushied, but you…"

"Don't even start," Dave threatens, "Or I will use this hand –" and he lifts the one intertwined with Kurt's "– To tickle you until you piss yourself."

Kurt pouts. "How cruel," he says, peering up at Dave's jaw. "And you'd really ruin these pants?"

"You could wash 'em," Dave shrugs. "But maybe I was just looking for an excuse to touch you. I do that a lot."

"Indeed you do," Kurt agrees wryly, turning his head back to face the screen. He snuggles into Dave's body and sighs. "Dave?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to know what my New Years resolution is going to be?" Kurt offers casually.

"Sure, g'head and tell it to me," Dave shrugs (as much as he can with Kurt pinning down one of his shoulders, anyhow).

"I want to keep in contact with you even though you'll be going to Michigan State and I to New York," Kurt whispers. He blinks, because he doesn't want to cry. "It's just… _unfair _that we get together with only a year or so to enjoy it."

"'S not so bad," Dave murmurs. "I mean… maybe I'll surprise you."

"Huh? How?" Kurt wonders, craning his neck to try and see Dave's facial expression in the dim lighting.

Dave peers down at his boyfriend and smiles. "I may or may not have applied to the same school as you at some point this past semester. Just to, you know, be there for you and stuff. They seem to really like my football record, and even more so, my impressive math classes…"

"Are you pulling my leg right now?" Kurt jumps up, unlinking their hands, but twisting his body to place both hands against Dave's chest as he looks into Dave's eyes. His face is all lit up, and he looks breathless. "Are you seriously going to go to New York with me?"

"They say you shouldn't go to a school just because your boyfriend or girlfriend is going there, but I thought, 'fuck it, I really want to since it's a good school anyway,' and so I did," Dave replies with a smirk. "Happy now? Or mad at me for ditching Michigan?"

"A bit of both!" Kurt retorts, frowning. "You know you love hockey better than football, and that hockey is what Michigan was offering you, so yes, I'm a little peeved that you gave that up on account of me, but at the same time…" His face relaxes and he smiles warmly. "I _am _incredibly happy. Thank you, David. I just don't want anything to go wrong and then you regret it…"

Dave shrugs. "Nah, I'll be fine. Resident self-proclaimed tough-guy, remember? 'Sides, I get the feeling I would really hate not seeing you for so long. I'd miss you like I kind of did when you went to Dalton last year, and that's not my style."

Kurt giggles and hugs Dave, arms around the tanner boy's shoulders. "Aw, I love you, David Karofsky."

Dave wraps his arms around Kurt and yanks him back far enough to kiss him passionately on the mouth. Breaking the kiss with a gentle puckering noise, he whispers genuinely, "And I love you, Kurt Hummel."

**Finite.**


End file.
